


Pyrite

by geoffaree



Series: A Very Slytherin Harry [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Hogwarts Second Year, Parseltongue, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 133,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geoffaree/pseuds/geoffaree
Summary: Harry and his snake's first summer away from the Dursleys and second year at Hogwarts. Featuring an awkward summer, an even more useless Defense professor than the one that had spent a year trying to murder him, a voice in the walls, a slew of petrified children, and a mysterious diary that seems oddly compelling.





	1. Chapter 1

The street he was walking down was dreary and a bit dingy. The houses, dirty brick buildings with overgrown little front gardens that seemed to hold more weeds than flowers, were about as far removed from Privet Drive’s cookie cutter aesthetic as one could get. Harry Potter found he did not mind in the least.

He followed close behind Snape as the man led the way down the dirty street. They were both dressed in muggle clothes, Snape in a close fitting black jumper (despite the summer heat) and trousers; Harry in one of the few tee shirts he had bought the summer before along with cargo shorts that actually fit him.

If Snape lived so removed from the wizarding side of Britain while not at school, Harry would need to acquire more suitable clothing. He supposed the tunics he'd gotten in Diagon could pass for muggle, but he did not want to spend the whole of the warm summer months in trousers.

Jax poked his head out of Harry’s satchel and looked around, hissing curiously at the sight of a small river ahead of them.

“ _I bet there's some good toads over there._ ”

Harry shrugged, eyeing the dirty water as they crossed a small bridge.

“ _I don't know buddy, it doesn't look very clean. You might get sick eating anything from there._ ” Harry wrinkled his nose at the smell of the river, no Jax would definitely be steering clear of anything in there.

Further along the bank he could see a watermill, but Harry couldn't tell if it was abandoned or just a bit dilapidated and the owners hadn't had the money or inclination to fix it.

One thing he noticed that was the same here as in Surrey was that the neighbors were just as nosey. Used to looking for such things, Harry caught many a twitching curtain and beady eye watching them make their way down the road.

Snape had picked him up at King’s Cross, claiming he needed the time to ready things for Harry’s arrival. He hadn’t minded the extra few hours the train ride allowed him with his friends. He was still unsure of where he stood with the Potion Master, if Snape resented him for barging into his personal life like he had. Or if he truly meant it when he said he was not adverse to Harry staying with him.

A scraggly looking tomcat ran across their path with a snarl, chasing a mouse into the space between two opposite buildings.

Harry was so distracted by the sudden appearance that he didn't notice they had reached the end of the row and Snape had stopped before a slightly less run down looking house; catching himself from running into the professor just in time. The front garden, while still overgrown and turning a bit yellow, was at least free of trash. Harry supposed it was hard to maintain a yard of you were gone from it most of the year. His aunt would have had a heart attack just seeing the state of it, which had Harry holding back an amused snort.

“Hold out your hand, Mr. Potter, so that I may attune you to the wards.” Snape said, breaking Harry from his thoughts.

Harry glanced from Snape to the house and back, he couldn't feel any wards, not like when they'd passed through the Hogwarts gates. Maybe because those were just so much stronger, older.

Snape was looking at him expectantly so Harry hastily held out a hand.

“What about Jax?” He asked, as Snape first touched the tip of his wand to Harry’s palm and then to the open air in front of the walk.

Only it wasn't open air at all, because a spiderweb of spell work appeared where Snape held the point of his wand, a brilliant deep blue that quickly spread in a pulse around the entire property. Harry felt a zing go through him, making the roots of his hair tingle. It all took less than a few seconds and then the house was back to looking its normal, dingy self.

“Your familiar will be fine.” The man said, motioning Harry to follow him up the short walk to the door, which he then opened with an ordinary muggle key. “The wards are mostly to keep out those with ill intent and to dissuade muggles from noticing my presence. I do not care for visitors. They also notify me of anyone coming and going, which I assume given your penchant for wandering about, would become tiresome after a while. Therefore I am trusting that you will notify me personally about your intents to come and go, at _reasonable_ times.”

He eyed Harry seriously before gesturing him inside with a sardonic smirk and a mock bow. “Welcome to Spinner’s End, Mr. Potter.”

Inside the house was dark, and even when Snape flicked on the lights it still held a slightly oppressive dimness. The front door opened into a cramped sitting room made even more so by the floor to ceiling bookcases that lined every wall, filled with leather bound tomes interspersed with worn paperbacks and what looked to be a plethora of journals. 

Harry walked cautiously forward, as much to stop blocking the entrance as to get a better look at the room. Although it was free of dust, the single window was only letting a modicum of afternoon light shine through the grime that covered it. Harry itched to clean things up but thought it might be rude to mention the state of things to the man letting him stay there.

There were two worn armchairs but no sofa, that both faced a modest fireplace, and squeezed into a corner was a small telly. Which was odd enough to make Harry realize the lights were not coming from the usual candles and lanterns he had become accustomed to at Hogwarts, but regular muggle electricity.

“You are welcome to read any of the books, save those on the top two shelves. I expect you to treat them with respect and to place each back in the precise spot you took it from.”

Harry nodded, mind still whirling over the juxtaposition of a telly and light bulbs in his Potion Master’s home.

Jax slithered out of the bag and went to explore the room, hissing in delight at all the new smells.

“Through there is the kitchen.” Snape nodded at an open doorway, “You will receive three meals a day, but if you require more make certain you clean up after yourself.”

Harry hesitated a moment, unsure.

“Do you want me to do the cooking, for letting me stay? I know how, I'm not bad at it.” He met Snape's eye determinedly, he was willing to do it, if he had to.

Instead of the nod he expected, the man just looked briefly pained and shook his head.

“No, Mr. Potter. I do not expect recompense of any kind from you, other than the expectation that you do not make a mess or set fire to the premises.”

Harry figured that last part might be a joke and relaxed a little. He was still unsure of what he was meant to do here, if not cook, maybe clean? He followed Snape into the kitchen, where the man put on the kettle and went about the ritual of making them both tea. Which seemed to be his default response whenever Harry said something he found odd.

Harry sat at the small round table that dominated most of the space in the room. It looked scrubbed within an inch of its life, but that did little to hide the ring stains and shallow scratches. It was something his aunt would never have let within a mile of her kitchen, but Harry kind of liked it. It felt used, lived in.

The tiles that covered the floor were discolored, but Harry thought with a little attention they could be good as new. The same with the windows and cupboards that lined the walls. He was already making plans to do just that when Snape set a chipped purple mug in front of him, the tea smelt a bit like anise and cinnamon and there was a faded picture of a bubbling cauldron on the side with the words _POTIONEER’S EXPO ‘85_ circling it slowly. The motion was a bit jerky, the movement charm obviously wearing off after so many years.

They drank in awkward silence, neither of them really knowing what to say. Jax appeared from the other room and slithered over to poke at the fridge, tongue flicking out as if he could smell through the heavy door.

“ _Are there eggs in there? That where your bitch of an aunt kept them._ ”

“ _Jax!_ ” Harry sputtered, spraying tea all over the table. He looked up at Snape guiltily, shrinking down in his seat and waiting for the yelling to start.

Snape just raised an eyebrow and flicked his wand, clearing away the spilled drops.

“Do I even want to know?” He sounded amused rather than angry and Harry relaxed, confused but not wanting to question it.

“Ah. Jax was just wondering if you had any eggs,” He nodded to where his snake was still poking at the fridge. “He knows that’s where Petunia would keep hers.”

“And this warranted such a volatile reaction?” Snape’s eyebrow rose impossibly higher.

Harry flushed and mumbled into his mug.

“He may have also called her a bitch...”

“Ah.” The man took a sip of his own drink, “I have said he was an uncommonly intelligent serpent.”

Harry managed not to spit a second time, barely. He could see Snape hiding a smirk in his mug.

There were eggs, as it turned out. Snape had apparently done some shopping before collecting Harry from the train. Jax happily gobbled down two of them, the greedy thing.

After they finished the tea, Snape led them to the back garden through a door in the kitchen. It was much better tended than the front. With marked pathways and thriving plant life. A lot of them Harry recognized from Herbology as magical in nature. There was even a small greenhouse tucked away in the corner. It made sense that Snape would grow his own ingredients, to be sure of the quality. Harry wondered if he'd be able to use any of them for his own potions. If Snape would let him brew during the summer, that would be fantastic.

“If you are careful, I will let you help me with the plants. But you must never go into the greenhouse without permission, there are dangerous and fragile specimens in there. Otherwise, feel free to spend time out here, the wards hide it from prying eyes.” Snape glared in at the low stone wall separating them from the neighbors.

That would be nice, to spend time outside without worrying about who would see him or Jax. And though he did not care much for gardening after taking care of his aunt’s flowers for years, he thought he might enjoy helping Snape with his plants. They all had a use and it wasn’t as if the man expected him to do all the work himself.

“I’d like that, sir.” It would at least help with easing this feeling of debt. 

They went back inside. Jax had wanted to stay and explore the garden, but Harry felt uneasy leaving the snake out there on his own and promised they could return later; after the tour.

There was a narrow hallway off the kitchen, which ended in a door that led to the basement.

“My personal laboratory.” He eyed Harry contemplatively, no doubt seeing the way he had perked up. “You have shown a surprising talent in the art.” The compliment made Harry flush with pride and scuff a boot on the already worn floorboards.

“I would not be opposed to you brewing under supervision, but as with the greenhouse you are _not_ to go down there unless I am with you. If I am brewing something sensitive and wish not to be disturbed, I will inform you of such.” He spared Harry a sharp look, “If there is an emergency, I expect to be notified no matter the case.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Harry really was grateful, he hadn't even had to ask and Snape was giving him what he most wanted. He was also feeling off balanced by it, this was going too well. Things did not do that in Harry’s life.

There was another door about halfway down the hallway that housed a washer and dryer, both obviously muggle and well used, like most things here were.

“I expect you know how to do your own laundry?”

Harry nodded.

“Good. If you own anything that needs a gentler hand, there is a service that can take care of it.”

That was useful, if Malfoy made good on his threat to have Harry over at his manor.

The tour next led them back to the sitting room, where Snape tapped a particular spot on a bookcase which then slid open to reveal a hidden stair; which both Harry and Jax found fascinating.

“ _Do all wizard buildings have secret passages?_ ”

“ _I hope so._ ” Harry hissed back, following a smirking Snape up the narrow stairs, he made note of which ones creaked the loudest.

The landing held three doors, one off the left, another about halfway down and the last taking up the end of the hall. There were no windows, but there was a string hanging down that was attached to what Harry assumed to be an entrance to the attic space.

Snape pointed at the furthest door, “My quarters, please knock if you need me and I shall do the same. The bathroom,” the one in the middle, “you will have it to yourself. I expect you to keep it clean.”

He then opened the door closest to them, motioning Harry inside.

“This will be your room for the duration of the summer, decorate it if you wish, just keep it neat.”

Harry looked around the space speechlessly. It was barren save for a single bed pressed along one wall, dressed with what looked to be new bedding, although the frame was just as old as the rest of the things in the house. There was also a desk under a window, that held a serviceable view of the dilapidated mill. A couple empty bookcases bordered a closet, whose door was closed but Harry figured it would be just as empty as the rest of the room.

It wasn't a big space, by most means, but it was a far sight better than a cupboard and Harry could not quite believe it was all theirs.

“This whole room is for us?” It sounded stupid saying it out loud, but Harry couldn't help it.

Snape had that pained look on his face again, and Harry was glad they were away from the kitchen, he did not know how much more tea he could stomach just then.

“Yes, Harry.” The man said softly, not meeting his eyes, but looking around with a sort of muted despair that Harry could understand the origin of. If Snape was using his given name, it had to be something more than the obvious.

“This used to be my room, growing up, I am sure it will serve you well.”

That he had not expected, and Harry looked around the space with new eyes. He could imagine a gangly Snape, lounging on the bed or scribbling at the desk. He wondered what his childhood had been like. Harry got the feeling it was not a pleasant one, from the reactions he had towards Harry’s own treatment.

“Thank you.” He said, instead of one of the thousand questions running through his head.

If this _was_ Snape's childhood home, did that mean his mother had lived around here too? Cokeworth seemed like a bit of a miserable place for it, and he could kind of understand why his aunt had made the move to Privet Drive. But Harry thought he'd still have taken the dirty river and tired looking rows of brick houses over the bright and shiny falsehood that seemed to permeate number four and its surroundings.

He and Snape stood awkwardly for a few more moments before the man left him to his unpacking.

“Dinner will be in a couple hours.” He said as he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

There was a lock on the door, but it was on the inside. Another stark difference between Spinner’s End and number four.

“ _What do you think, Jax._ ” Harry asked the serpent as he pulled his trunk from a pocket and unshrunk it at the foot of the narrow bed.

“ _It's much bigger than the cupboard._ ” Jax replied, slinking across the scuffed floor to explore under the desk. “ _There’s all kinds of interesting smells all over this place. And the back garden was very nice, when can we go out there?_ ”

Harry snorted at the snake’s one track mind.

“ _In a bit, I promise._ ”

He debated about unpacking anything, unsure if they might need to make a quick exit. Snape seemed accommodating enough now, but Harry was wary of trusting him too much. Things did not usually go so smoothly for them, and Harry wanted to keep his guard up for now.

He compromised by placing a few books on the desk, along with some writing materials.

“ _Do you want one of your rocks?_ ” He asked.

“ _Yeah, over here._ ” Jax wiggled into a corner made dark by the shadow of the desk. Harry dutifully placed one of the flatter, charmed rocks on the floor. It was nearly completely out of sight from most angles in the room, which Harry supposed was the point.

He sat on the bed then, while Jax continued to poke around the room. He just needed a moment to adjust to the thought of having all this space to himself, a door that locked from the inside, and the promise of regular meals. Harry wanted to believe it. He really did, but experience had taught him otherwise. So he would remain cautious.

The bedspread was a plain dove gray, but it seemed new and clean, which was still better than anything he'd had before Hogwarts. Laying back, Harry closed his eyes for a moment, not noticing when he slipped into sleep from one second to the next.

~~~~~~~>

Severus Snape sat in his childhood kitchen, brewing his third cup of strong tea. The day had been alternatively hectic and painfully awkward. He had Apparated from the school to Spinner’s End as soon as the last of the stragglers had made it to the train. He'd then spent the remainder of the morning clearing out his old bedroom and putting extra wards on his more volatile books.

Severus had been at a bit of a loss at what to do with the newly emptied room, unsure what children needed outside his duties as Head of House. Food and shelter he could provide, but what else? Thinking back to his own lamentable childhood had not yielded much in the way of answers. So he'd acquired a fresh set of bedding and a few empty bookcases and hoped it would be enough. Potter had seemed grateful enough at the thought of his own space, too grateful. Severus angrily stirred too much sugar into his tea, remembering that blasted cupboard.

If Petunia hadn't already been rotting in Azkaban, he might have considered doing something drastic. Had nearly done so in any case, holding back only because he knew how much worse an extended stint in the prison would be compared to the swift and far too easy deaths Severus had envisioned.

Let the dementors take her and that lump of a husband and do their worst. Hopefully they would not waste away too quickly, that would be no sort of justice at all.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, Severus glanced at the ceiling, it was quiet upstairs. Perhaps too much so, but he was hesitant to investigate just yet. He'd had just about his fill of awkward conversation for the day. Severus took a sip of the tea, grimacing at the sickly sweetness of it and pushed the offending mug away.

Why had Potter insisted on staying with him?

Why had he agreed to it?

Running a hand through his hair, Severus sighed. There was no use brooding about it now, the decision was made and he would just have to muddle through as best he could. Introspection could wait a few more days.

Looking to the clock above the stove, Severus supposed it was late enough to start on dinner. It would do well to distract his roaming thoughts at the very least.

He was in the middle of dicing an onion for spaghetti bolognese when a cut off scream sounded from second floor.

Dropping the knife, Severus hurried for the stairs, thoughts whirling over what could have caused the boy to cry out like that. The scream had been quickly muffled but terrified in its rawness. He gave the door only a passing knock before entering, wand ready.

The boy was sitting up on the bed, its covering wrinkled as if he had laid down atop them for a nap. He was pale, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, the rectangular frames of his glasses crooked. Potter’s snake was in his lap, hissing quietly but fell silent as Severus entered, looking at him with those unnerving purple eyes.

A nightmare was the obvious conclusion and Severus smoothly stowed his wand away into his sleeve once more.

The boy glanced up at him briefly before focusing on his familiar, stroking the smooth scales.

Severus was at a loss for what to do. Knowing what this child had been through, both recently and over the last decade. He felt wholly inadequate in dealing with any of it beyond providing draughts and an offer to talk through things that he knew the boy would never take him up on.

“I'm sorry.” Potter said suddenly, not looking up from his snake. “I didn't mean to be so loud.”

Severus held back a sigh. “No apology necessary.” He managed after a moment of heavy silence. “Do you wish to speak about it?”

“ _No_.” Was the emphatic reply, sharply cutting through the dense quiet of the house.

“Very well.” Severus had expected as much.

He did not enjoy the sense of imbalance the situation was instilling him with. Severus had never been good at emoting freely. He could analyze motives and manipulate others into believing what he wished them to, and have them thinking it was their own idea in the first place, with the ease of breathing. He had been an excellent spy and even better Slytherin.

But this, here? This went well beyond his wheelhouse. It would require honesty of a caliber Severus was unsure he possessed. The boy would need a gentle hand but not mollycoddling. Severus had the distinct impression Potter would bolt at the first sign of a tightening leash.

Which the Potion Master could hardly blame him for.

The night terrors would be an issue, one that could not be waylaid by droughts forever. Severus doubted the Dreamless Sleep he provided would be enough to keep them even remotely at bay. Likely only granting temporary relief, and then only for the two nights a week permitted to avoid developing a dependency.

Severus made a note to monitor the boy’s use of the potion, to make absolutely certain he did not abuse it. He did not believe that to be the case, with the rate of replenishment he'd done over the term since prescribing it. But then again, Potter had shown remarkable skill in brewing. It was not out of the realm of possibilities that the boy could manage a fifth year potion.

It would bear monitoring. Severus would give Potter the benefit of the doubt for the time being. For now, perhaps a distraction.

“Dinner will be ready shortly. If you wish to take a walk around the back garden, I shall summon you when it is finished.”

That seemed to agree with the boy, who was still far too pale, but had stopped trembling. There was a quick exchange with the serpent in his lap, which ended in an excited looking wriggle that Severus took to mean acquiesce to the suggestion.

“I shall leave you too it then.” He murmured, leaving the still mostly barren room.

He had not expected Potter to immediately overtake the space with all of his possessions, if indeed the boy even had enough to fill the small area. Severus knew it would take time for him to adjust to the fact that Severus was not about to abuse the boy, or treat him in such a way that forced a hasty retreat from the premises. Potter was cautious, an excellent trait for one of his House, and something the Potion Master could understand.

It had not escaped his notice that there were a few things placed about the desk. A concession. A sign that perhaps the boy was at least somewhat optimistic about the situation.

As he took the knife back up to continue preparing their meal, Severus contemplated just how difficult it was going to be, looking after this child. If Lily would approve of the decision or if she’d still refuse to forgive him even now. She very well may have preferred the boy go to the Longbottoms.

There was no way of knowing in any case, so Severus pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on mincing garlic with short, quick motions. When Potter wandered through a moment later, having deftly avoided most of the creaking steps, he spared the boy a nod. Potter returned it after a moment of hesitation, perhaps fearing Severus would change his mind and make him talk; the snake astride his shoulders _winked_ at him, the cheeky thing.

And then they were through the door and into the garden. Severus could see them through the grimy window above the sink, he really should clean them more thoroughly. The snake wasted no time in slinking down and off into his herbs. Potter had a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Feeling the boy would not appreciate catching the Potion Master spying upon him so, Severus went back to stirring his sauce; ignoring the heavy weight of old guilt with the practice of years.

~~~~~~~>

Harry sat on the low wall that bordered Spinner’s End and the next property. Jax had assured him with a quick sniff around that the wards extended about a foot beyond the barrier. He was still a bit shaken from the dream, one filled with high laughter and the stench of burning flesh, but the open (if not completely fresh) air of the back garden was helping. He was grateful Snape had not pushed for him to talk about anything. Although the way the man had burst into the room, as if expecting a fight, had startled Harry out of the burgeoning panic attack that had been forming.

He watched Jax slither his way through the various herbs and plants that took up much of the open space. It smelled earthy back here, like living growing things, but there was still a faint stench of muggy air and dirty river underneath it all. Which somehow just made it seem all the more real and worthwhile. If these things could not only survive, but thrive surrounded by all this unpleasantness, then maybe Harry could do the same. 

By the time Snape called them back inside, it had grown dim with twilight and Harry felt much calmer. Scooping Jax up from where he was lounging by a fragrant budding plant (that Harry was fairly sure was used in various painkilling potions) he led them back into the house. Snape had set plates piled high with pasta on the table and Harry’s stomach gurgled loudly at the sight. It had been a while since the meal on the train and the food smelled much better than anything his aunt had ever produced. He quickly washed up at the sink and only hesitated a moment before seating himself opposite the professor at the little round table. Jax poked his head up and flicked his tongue out at the meal, but Harry waited until Snape started eating before he took a bite himself.

“This is really good.” He managed, after a taking a few more, working hard not to just stuff his face full of the delicious noodles and sauce. He had grown used to full meals at Hogwarts, although his habit of eating far too quickly had been harder to shake.

Snape hmm’d, spinning a few strands of pasta onto his own fork and managing to eat with far more dignity than Harry feared he could ever manage.

“Where did you learn to cook so well?” He tried instead, after an awkward minute of silence where the only sounds were Harry failing to slurp his spaghetti quietly and the chirping of night insects coming from the back garden.

Snape looked contemplative for a moment before answering, “I’ve lived more or less on my own since I was seventeen. Cooking is not so different from brewing, it was not a hardship to learn.”

That made sense, perhaps Harry would enjoy it, if he thought about it in those terms. Rather than as a chore foisted upon him by this relatives. He supposed it could even be enjoyable if he were able to then eat the results instead of staring longingly at them and hoping for any scraps they decided to toss his way.

Maybe, if the summer went well, he’d ask Snape to show him; if the man wasn’t too busy. He probably did not want Harry pestering him about such things.

Glancing around for a change of topic, his eyes landed on the toaster tucked into a corner of the counter.

“Why do you have so many muggle things? I wasn’t expecting you to own a telly or anything like that.” It did not occur to him that the question might be rude and invasive until it had left his mouth, he had just been so curious about it since stepping foot in Spinner’s End.

Luckily, Snape did not seem offended by the line of questioning, taking a sip from his glass of red wine before answering.

“My father was a muggle.” He said simply, gesturing at the surrounding house with his fork, his mouth curved into a bitter sneer for a moment before smoothing back into neutrality.

Harry tried not to stare at the man, the information blindsiding him. The idea that Snape, who always projected such a magical presence, that fit so well into the image of wizard in Harry’s mind; with his fitted robes and long hair and manner of speaking. The ease at which he wielded magic, with efficient grace and more power than Harry thought he’d ever achieve. That he was Head of Slytherin house, notorious for their stances on things like blood purity and nobility. It all brought into focus just how much one could do, if given the correct motivation.

Harry was not so unobservant as to miss the significance of what Snape had just told him. It did not matter where he came from, Harry had the means to make better for himself. And even if he didn’t, he could still make his own way. As Snape apparently had.

They spent the rest of the meal in relative silence, as Harry tried to readjust his worldview concerning his professor and finding it difficult to reconcile this more humanized version of the man with his determination to not get too attached. Harry did not want to trust him quite so quickly, but he found it hard to settle back into the complete isolation he’d braced himself for.

Needing space to clear his head, Harry finished eating and automatically took his things over to the sink, washing them with an efficiency born of years under his aunt’s beady gaze. He nearly started in on the pots and pans after setting his milk cup on the drying board, but Snape waved him away.

“Do not worry about that, I’ll take care of it. You look tired, why not retire to bed early? It’s been a long day.”

Harry very nearly balked at the order, before he realized it was nothing of the sort. He was not being sent to his cupboard or forced away. Snape, for whatever reason, just seemed worried over him. So Harry nodded and gathered Jax up from where he was coiled on Harry’s abandoned chair and made his way back up the narrow staircase to the room Snape had given him.

It was still early, barely eight, but Harry felt the weight of the day pressing down on him. So he changed into his sleep clothes and grabbed his bathroom kit out of his trunk. The things in it were replaceable enough, so he didn’t see a problem with just leaving them in the room across the hall. Perhaps it was another concession, but Harry was too exhausted to think about it as he set his toothbrush on the side of the sink and his various shower things on the rim of the small tub. The bathroom was clean, if just as aged as the rest of the house. The tiles gone the way of the kitchen’s and the tub could use a more thorough scrubbing. But overall it was not terrible. The mirror, he found, opened up into a cabinet and he stowed away the hairbrush Parkinson had gifted him in there.

Back in the room, _his room_ Harry supposed, he took a dose of Dreamless before settling into his new bed properly. Jax snuggled his way under Harry’s shirt to coil over his full stomach.

“ _It’s nice here._ ” The snake hissed quietly, Harry patted him sleepily, feeling the pull of the potion.

“ _I hope it stays that way._ ” If Jax replied, Harry was already too far down to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry awoke it was still dark, but there was a faint glow seeping in from the full moon that sat just low enough to reach the window over the desk. It splashed a blue light over the smattering of parchment he had left there.

It must have been earlier than he thought when he'd gone to bed, the drought usually had him sleeping in. Well, sleeping in for _him_. Harry had found over the school year that most other kids his age managed a good few more hours than he ever did, given the opportunity.

Spinner’s End was quiet, but not oppressively so. Not like at the Dursleys, where he would wake dreading the coming day. Here, while Harry still felt like an intruder, he did not think Snape resented his presence. At least not yet. Time would tell.

Harry thought about staying in his new bed and trying for more sleep, but the memory of his nap the day before had him hesitating. Eventually his bladder made the decision for him, and Harry slipped from the bed and padded across the cold floor on bare feet. He left Jax sleeping in the warm pocket of blankets, figuring he'd be back soon enough.

The bedroom door creaked slightly when he opened it and Harry shot a quick glance down the hall, but Snape's door remained firmly shut. A few light steps brought him across the hall where Harry made use of the facilities and cupped a few mouthfuls of water. Dreamless Sleep always left him with a dry throat.

Back in the room, Jax hadn't moved from his nest of blankets but did grumble at Harry for leaving him without his living heater.

Harry snorted and poked at the blankets, making the serpent hiss out in petulant protest.

Harry debated staying in the, _his_ , room until a more reasonable hour. He had plenty of his own books to read, or he could get started on his summer homework. But Snape had said he was welcome to read most of the things downstairs...

Harry would also be less likely to disturb the man, with an entire floor between them. He didn’t know how light a sleeper Snape was, or how angry he would get at being woken up. Better to play it safe.

“ _Jax._ ” He hissed at the blankets, “ _Come out here, we’re gonna go downstairs._ ”

His snake poked a head out and blinked sleepily up at him, flicking out his tongue.

“ _But it’s warm in here._ ” He whined but slinked out all the same. Harry scooped him up with an amused huff and allowed the snake to burrow under his shirt and steal what heat he could from there.

They managed to navigate the narrow staircase with very little in the way of noise. Harry slid the hidden door closed behind them and let out the breath he’d been holding. The sitting room was just as dim as the upstairs had been, so Harry conjured a light in his palm, the magic coming to him easily after years of doing so. He thought about turning on the overheads, but Petunia had always yelled at him about wasting electricity whenever she saw the light under his cupboard door; so Harry stuck with his little glow for now.

In the warm light of his magic, the towering bookcases did not seem quite so intimidating and Harry set about looking for something interesting to read.

There were a lot of potion books, as he’d expected, but also a fair amount on spellcraft, Arithmancy, and other more obscure magics that had Harry’s hand itching to flip through them. There was just so much out there to learn, he wished he could take more electives next year, but he’d have to wait until his third to do so. Independent study could only do so much, especially for the more complex things. A teacher would be needed so that he did not accidentally blow himself to smithereens. Sliding a journal filled with convoluted diagrams back onto the shelf (in its exact place, as he’d been told) Harry’s eye caught on what he had taken to be an end table huddled into the corner bordering the little entryway.

Curious, Harry opened the doors on the front of it to reveal a magically expanded space filled with vinyl records. It was not an end table at all, the top lifted up to access the turntable, a record already in place. Bringing his light closer, Harry could make out the name printed on it: _The Damned_.

A bit ominous, but Harry’s curiosity was just fueled further and he wondered what it sounded like, what kind of music it was. Definitely nothing his aunt would have allowed in her house. That would definitely fall under making too much noise though. So Harry closed the top softly and contented himself with sifting through the records underneath.

There was a mix of muggle albums: _The Clash, GBH, Conflict, Subhumans, Crass, The Pogues_ alongside more obviously wizarding made ones: _The Hobgoblins, Thestral Sight, Sickles Over Galleons_.

Given the cover art on a lot of it, Harry could hazard a guess at the type of music Snape favored. He spent a few amused moments imagining his dour Potions professor as an angry teenager, gangly and scowling at everything; maybe even with Slytherin-green hair spelled to stick straight up. The image had him holding back what would no doubt have been crazed sounding giggles. It was so incongruous with the severe man he knew. To think he might have once gone around in patchwork clothing, angry at the world and rebellious.

Well, the anger he could imagine just fine. Harry often found himself angry far more than he’d like. Perhaps an outlet like this could help him as it’d done Snape? He had never really had a chance to listen to much music at the Dursleys. Vernon did not approve of it and Dudley always seemed more interested in terrorising the neighbourhood children and his video games than anything. Petunia would sometimes listen to the radio while she cleaned, but it was usually a talk show or something too low and mellow to make out.

As he flipped through the albums Harry grew more and more curious. It had never occurred to him that Snape might like music at all, let alone have so much stored away in this little expanded cabinet. Harry was so engrossed in looking through everything that he didn’t even notice it had grown lighter out, or heard the approaching steps behind him.

“Amusing yourself, Mr. Potter?”

Harry jumped at the voice, flailing around and managing to knock his head against one of the cabinet doors. Jax poked his own head out of Harry’s collar and hissed at the disturbance.

Snape was standing over him, looking tired and slightly amused; which was better than angry at finding Harry rummaging through his things without permission. The man was dressed in soft looking black sleep pants and matching shirt, with a slightly threadbare robe hanging open over that.

He raised an eyebrow at Harry, who was still sprawled on the floor and rubbing his head.

“I’m sorry.” The apology came out on instinct, he seemed to be saying it a lot around the man since he’d come here yesterday.

Snape waved it away in any case.

“I did not mean to startle you.” He said, then eyed the cabinet behind him. “Did you wish to listen to something while I prepare breakfast?”

Harry did, but diverted, uncomfortable at being caught out and unsure why Snape was not more upset at him touching things he had not been given permission to.

“I don’t know any of these bands.” He shrugged, Jax grumbled at the movement and slipped down out of the bottom of his shirt to go find a less jumpy napping spot.

“Then I suppose now is as favorable a time as any to begin your education in the matter.” Snape said with a bit of a smirk.

He knelt down next to Harry and gently lifted the album that was occupying the turntable, storing it in its proper sleeve and replacing it with another.

The music that came out was far more melodious than Harry had expected from something titled _Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash_.

Snape left him to listen, shuffling off into the kitchen, where the smell of frying bacon soon drifted out.

Harry liked what he heard, filled with Celtic melodies, a bleakness undercut with a ray of hope. 

He sat and watched the record spin, knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them. Letting the music flow around and through him, washing away some of the anxiety that had been weighing him down. By the time Snape called him into the kitchen, a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth that he could not quite banish.

They ate in relative silence, only speaking when the album had run its course and Snape flicked a hand in the general direction of the turntable; stopping the buzz of the needle running over empty vinyl.

Harry was sad it had finished, nibbling at his toast (with marmalade he didn’t even have to sneak). He wanted to restart it from the beginning and hear the whole thing over.

“I liked that.” He offered, in hopes the man would do just that.

Snape nodded, sipping his tea and looking more awake than when he’d come downstairs.

“I thought you might, although the subject matter at times gets mature, I have no doubt you could appreciate it.”

Harry ate a few more forkfuls of eggs before he built up the courage to actually ask for what he wanted. The concept was a hard one to grasp, but he figured it might not hurt to do so this once. To test the waters of what he was allowed to do. The Dursleys had instilled such a stigma against questions in him that Harry had to take a fortifying sip of his own tea before he managed to get any more words out.

“Can we listen to it again? Or something else?” Harry resisted the urge to tap his fork against his nearly empty plate as Snape finished chewing on a strip of bacon before answering.

“If you enjoyed that, I have others you might also like.” He eyed Harry across the table seriously, “Although the same handling rules apply, treat whatever you handle with absolute care and be sure to replace each record back where you found it.”

Harry nodded swiftly, promising just that. Snape hmm’d and rose to get himself more eggs, tipping some onto Harry’s plate as well, along with the last of the bacon.

“Eat.” He commanded, before Harry could protest, and settled back down to finish his own breakfast.

Harry did so, a strange warmth filling him at the gesture. 

Snape didn’t let him do the breakfast dishes, not even his own plate this time. And Harry felt a little adrift watching the man gather everything himself. He did not give Harry much time to dwell on it though, shooing him from the kitchen. Snape spent a few moments showing Harry how to work the record player, and pulling a few different albums from the depths of the cabinet before leaving him to it.

“Thank you.” He managed, clutching the square sleeves to his chest. Snape spared him a nod, an unreadable expression settling over his features a moment before being smoothed away.

Harry spent the rest of the morning in the sitting room, listening to Snape’s collection with a sort of hunger he usually reserved for books and potions. Jax joined him after it became apparent Harry was not going to be moved from his spot in front of the cabinet anytime soon. He let the snake pick the next album after his last random choice of a fast paced and harsh sounding _Troops of Tomorrow_ left his heart pounding and feeling strangely short of breath. He got the feeling maybe Snape should have put some of the same restrictions on the music as he had the books. A lot of the stuff he was hearing were things Harry either had no frame of reference for, or far too much of one.

But the man had disappeared out into the back garden after finishing the dishes and left Harry to his own devices. He would feel stupid for asking about such a thing, weak. Harry did not like feeling weak.

He did like most of the music though. Even if it left him restless, like he needed to run around to let off some of the built up energy inside him. Harry supposed that was probably some of the point to this type of outlet.

The album Jax picked was a wizarding one, unsurprisingly. The cover held a picture of a skeletal winged horse that glided back and forth across a cloudy night sky. It was an eerie image but the music was nice, a little heavier and slower. The whole thing telling an entire story, rather than just having unconnected songs.

“ _Good choice, buddy._ ” He told Jax, who was swaying back and forth to the music next to him.

When they finished that one Harry dug around for other ones by the same band, only coming up with two more. Both just as engrossing as the first had been.

Snape found them like that just as _Wings of Bone_ finished its final, lonely note.

“Why aren’t there more of these?” Harry asked, flipping the sleeve over to see the release date was 1980. There were blue flames licking up the sides of the tracklist in a slightly hypnotic sort of way.

Snape frowned and glared off to the right, flexing the fingers of his left hand in an uncommon show of emotion.

“The singer and drummer were killed in the war.” He said eventually, gently taking the sleeve from Harry’s hands and placing the record within.

“Oh.” Was all he could really manage, the sound a soft whisper in the quietness of the sitting room. He did not feel much like listening to anything else now.

Snape knelt down and slid the album back into the cabinet, next to its brothers and closed the doors.

“Come, it’s time for lunch.”

Harry did not feel much like eating either, but he followed Snape in any case. They had sandwiches and Harry tried to ignore the creeping feeling of darkness that seemed to be swallowing him. The world was a terrible place. Every time he thought he found something good and pure, it got ripped away and tainted with reality. It wasn’t fair that something so beautiful could be ruined for no other reason than because a madman had wanted power.

“Harry.”

He looked up, Snape was frowning, but Harry didn’t think it was at him. The man had barely touched his own meal, and Harry looked down at his plate to see he had more or less just disassembled his own sandwich into its component parts without really managing to eat any of it.

Before he could apologise, or force the food down so as not to seem ungrateful, Snape spoke again.

“Harry, this world...” He paused, taking a few slow breaths, “It is a cruel and unforgiving place.”

That sounded about right to him, but Snape continued before he could voice his agreement.

“But that does not mean that it is without its good qualities as well. Bad things happen, yes, terrible things to people who do not deserve it. But there is goodness to be found, if you put forth the effort to look for it.”

“How?” Harry asked, feeling as if the dark cloud that had been forming over him was just growing denser by the second. He stoked Jax, who lay in his lap, another innocent thing Harry feared would be ripped away without a moment’s notice and for no reason.

“It might not seem like it now, but things will get easier for you.” Snape answered after a moment, voice heavy but so completely uncompromising in tone that Harry wanted very much to believe him. “You have your familiar, and friends in Mr. Zabini and Miss Bulstrode. You are away from the abusive environment your relatives forced upon you. And you have your entire future ahead of you to make of whatever you wish. You just need to not give in to darkness, do not let it control you, find a way to make it work for you rather than against.”

“It’s so hard...” Harry whispered, daring to voice his fear.

Snape reached across the table, hesitating only a second before covering one of Harry’s hands with his own.

“I know. More than you could ever guess.” He said, black eyes holding a depth of pain so deep Harry had to avert his gaze or risk bursting into tears at the swell of emotion rising in himself.

Pushing back from the table, Harry hastily excused himself and fled up the stairs to his room with Jax. Closing the door firmly, pausing only a moment before throwing the lock as well. He doubted it would ever really hold the man back from entering the room if he truly desired it. But the idea of it helped anyway.

Harry sniffed in an effort to hold back the tears.

He didn’t know if it was the darkness that was making him want to cry or the fact that Snape had been able to pull some of it back, to show Harry a way through, if he only let himself try.

Jax licked at his ear, hissing his concern. Harry gathered the snake in his arms and laid them both down on the bed, he was still in his sleep clothes from last night and did not see any reason to change out of them now.

He let Jax talk at him for a while, taking comfort in the silly stories of weird smells he’d found out in the garden and how he swore there was a swarm of pixies behind the greenhouse. It hadn’t been pixies, Harry knew, having seen the fireflies the night before, but he let Jax chatter on about them anyway. It helped hold back the tide of unwanted emotion.

Snape was right about one thing at least, he had Jax to cheer him up.

Although that just brought along the thought of what might happen if something were to befall his friend, which brought the clouds right back in.

Harry tried to push them away, he did, it was just so hard.

~~~~~~~>

That night, Severus was woken with a cut off shriek. It had been a long day after Potter had retreated to his room, not appearing again until Snape had knocked to tell him dinner was ready. The boy had come to the door, the _locked_ door, looking tired and pale but had followed him downstairs all the same. They ate soup in silence, which seemed to be becoming a habit with them. The boy finished his bowl quickly, taking it to the sink to wash before Severus could protest that he did not need to.

He didn’t try and stop Potter from returning to his room, not wanting to push him further away than he had apparently already done.

This was turning out to be an even more difficult task than he had anticipated when he’d agreed to keep the boy for the summer. Something was going to give eventually, and Severus feared what that might end up being. He needed to think of a way to deal with this that did not just exacerbate the issues or cause more unforeseen problems.

When the cut off scream had him shooting up in bed, wand in hand before he could actually register being awake, it just brought to the forefront a main concern he held for the boy. The solution coming to him a second later in such clarity, he wondered that it hadn’t occurred to him before.

Throwing on and cinching his robe, Severus summoned a book from downstairs and made his way down the hall to Potter’s room. That he was already thinking of it as such was not something he wanted to dwell on just then.

He knocked softly, “May I come in?”

It took a few seconds, but Potter eventually called out an affirmative. The boy was sitting up in bed, looking even more wane in the dimness of room than he had over dinner. There were dark bags under his eyes and an unhealthy sallowness to his skin that Severus could see even across the room.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, guilt weighing his voice, pale hands clutching at the blanket covering his lap.

“No,” Severus lied, “I was up reading.”

Potter eyed him like he did not believe the claim but did not have the energy, or will, to refute it. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, showing a startling amount of contumacy in that at least. Even if it did make Severus’ job harder than it ought be.

“As you wish.” He said instead of shaking some sense into the boy, grabbing the desk chair and settling himself next to the bed. “I do, however, have an offer that you may find interesting.” He held up the book, it was medium sized, with a pale blue cover.

“An offer?” Potter asked, squinting at the book.

“Yes.” He said, handing over the boy’s glasses along with the volume. “What do you know of mind magic, Mr. Potter?”

“I know it’s supposed to be really difficult to learn.” Potter answered, flipping the book: _Opening Your Thoughts, Closing Your Mind: A Beginner’s Guide To Occlumency_ , curiously. “That it lets you stop other people from reading your thoughts, or influencing you in ways you otherwise wouldn’t have been.”

Severus nodded, satisfied, “Correct, for the most part. It also helps one keep their own minds organized and under strict control.”

That had the boy looking up, a raw desperation in his eyes that he did not do well in covering; Severus did his utmost to ignore the clenching in his chest.

“Even dreams?” It was so faint an inquiry that Severus might have missed it if he were not so completely focused on the unfairly damaged child in front of him.

“Yes, Harry, even dreams.” He paused only a moment before confessing, “I use it myself for that purpose, and others. I would have suggested it earlier, had I thought of it. It has been so many years since I began that it is second nature to do the techniques without thought.”

“Will you teach me? Please?” The boy sounded so desperate, braced as if he expected Severus to snatch the book from his hands and leave him to his terrors, that he very nearly hugged him.

Startled by the sudden urge, Severus was able to restrain himself and settle for laying a hand on Potter’s trembling shoulder.

“That is why I came here, and brought you this book. Read at least the first three chapters, and we can begin the lessons in the morning proper. After breakfast.” The boy nodded shakily, gripping the book tightly.

“Thank you.” Potter blurted out, as Severus rose, replacing the chair at the desk.

“Of course.” He said, at a loss for any other words. He clicked on the lamp on the nightstand, when it looked as if Potter was just going to spend the next few hours squinting in the dark.

He escaped down to the kitchen for a nightcap, and prepared a cup of tea for the boy while he was at it. Severus knew Potter would not be getting any more sleep that night, as much as it pained him to admit. If he also found a few biscuits to bring along, it was just so they didn’t go stale sitting in the pantry.


	3. Chapter 3

“Breath, Mr. Potter. Slow and deep. You are holding yourself far too tensely.” Snape’s voice was low and calm as he instructed Harry in the proper way to begin clearing his mind.

It was the first step in learning Occlumency, and one he had been struggling with all morning. The book had made it sound simple. Do this and it will lead to that. One only needed to exert some control over oneself and the process became easy.

The problem came when Harry found he apparently did not possess the proper amount of control. Or maybe it was that there were just too many things flying around in his head. Or the fact that he was doing this with his eyes closed, which made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Which in turn had him tensing up and utterly failing at the exercise.

They had been at it for what felt like hours, and Harry was starting to get a headache from concentrating too hard on trying not to concentrate. After Snape had brought him the tea (and biscuits) and retired back to his own room, Harry had fairly _devoured_ the book. The idea that he might be able to gain some relief from the constant anxiety of sleeping was something he truly needed. Ever since the incident with Quirrell, he had not gone a single unaided night without violent, terrifying dreams that he woke from shaky and sweating. He was coming dangerously close to breaking the dosage restrictions on the Dreamless Sleep, just to gain some real rest.

The book had been fascinating, he'd had no idea someone could manipulate their own mind to such an extent. He'd read through the entire thing by the time Snape had checked up on him in the morning proper. The language of it had been a little convoluted and obviously meant for someone with far more magical training than Harry currently possessed. But he got the gist of what was required easily enough.

Clear your mind. Compartmentalize your thoughts. Create a barrier. Learn to detect what was yourself and what was an intruder. And either force the foreign presence away, or if you were skilled enough, present it with a falsehood that gave the impression of an unprotected mind.

It was a complicated process that could take dedicated years to master. But Harry only really needed to do the first couple steps. Once he was able to clear his mind and organize his thoughts, he could lock the bad ones away so that they did not wreak havoc on his sleeping brain.

It was not a foolproof defense, it would not help as much while he was awake and consciously able to access the memories; but it was a far sight better than suffering through the nightmares every night.

So Harry had started out the morning eagerly. Dutifully eating the (large) bowl of cold cereal Snape placed in front of him and drinking the glass of orange juice set next to it. Harry had never really had orange juice before, Dudley would always drink most of it before Harry got the chance to pilfer a sip. And Hogwarts had an odd obsession pumpkin and pretending no other juices existed. It was nice.

After breakfast, Snape had led them back into the sitting room and arranged the two armchairs so that they faced one another. Once they had settled down, the man had explained further what Occlumency was for and its many benefits.

Then he'd had Harry close his eyes and attempt to clear his mind. It was not as easy a task as it sounded. The book had been more of a primer about the overall approach to learning and definition of the skill, but had not gone into much detail on how one was to actually do said steps. And Snape, although he claimed to be a Master in it, did not do well in explaining exactly how Harry was supposed to go about things.

They had been sitting across from each other for hours with nothing but a headache to show for it. Snape would tell him to ignore all the distractions in the room, to calm his thoughts and relax his muscles. But Harry did not know how to do that. With his eyes closed, it made him concentrate more on what he could hear, an unconscious fear of being attacked while vulnerable. He knew, in theory, that Snape would not hurt him so overtly; at least he hoped that was the case. And he had Jax in his lap, to keep watch. But every little creak of the house, or noise floating in from the street, or even Snape's own quiet, even, breathing had him tensing up.

Harry let out a frustrated huff, slumping in his chair and opening his eyes. Snape still sat across from him, he was frowning and Harry flushed with embarrassment at how badly he was failing.

“I'm sorry.” He hated how weak he sounded, Harry was not helpless; he just needed to learn this so badly.

Snape's frown deepened, he folded his hands together, resting his chin on them, elbows propped on the chair’s arms. He looked contemplative, but not angry at Harry’s deficiency. Jax nudged at his hand and Harry absently stroked his snout, feeling useless.

“Perhaps a short break?” Snape suggested, and Harry felt both relieved and a little ashamed.

He nodded in any case, slipping down from his own chair, Jax wriggled his way up Harry’s arm and across his shoulders.

“Can I go take a walk outside?” It felt odd asking, Harry far more used to sneaking away from Privet Drive. But Snape had said that first day he wanted to know if Harry left. And he was probably already trying the man's patience with his utter inability to follow simple instructions.

Snape waved a hand, still frowning and staring off, apparently lost in deep thought.

“Be back within an hour.” He murmured, “And be careful, this neighborhood is not ideal, as I am sure you noticed.”

Harry nodded, feeling an odd sort of prickling emotion at the off handed remark about his safety, and turned to the door before Snape could see the way he flushed.

“ _Time to hide, buddy, we're going outside._ ”

“ _Ooh, good. It's about time we scoped out this area, who knows what kind of fat mice think they can just encroach on us._ ” Jax hissed excitedly, slithering his way under Harry’s tee-shirt. His tail poked out from his sleeve a little and Harry tickled it, earning a snakey giggle before Jax managed to retract it.

Outside was warm with summer heat, but there were a few clouds. Looking around, Harry saw that Cokeworth looked just as dreary as it had the day he'd arrived. Which had been less than a week ago, a fact that astonished him, it had felt like much longer.

Picking a direction, Harry walked down the dirty sidewalk and thought about their morning lesson. Snape had instructed him to quiet himself both internally and externally. The external was easy enough, Harry was used to being quiet and avoiding notice. It was the internal that was causing the issue. There were too many thoughts flying around in his brain, made more frantic by his attempt to wrangle them into some kind of order.

Every little sound made his nerves jump and had him imagining all manner of horrible scenarios. Which had him stop breathing and hunched up without conscious thought until Snape told him to relax again and the cycle started all over.

Harry kicked an empty can out of his path and it skidded into the shadow of a narrow alley between two houses, when they passed the gap he could see many similar bits of trash littering the space.

They didn't encounter too many people, an old woman with a dirty dress that Jax whispered smelled strongly of cats. A couple really young children, perhaps five or six, playing with brightly colored blocks on the scraggly front lawn of a house while a man smoked a cigarette on the steps; his eyes followed Harry as he hurried past, gaze suspicious. At the corner there was a man passed out next to a pile of empty bottles, Harry could smell him from half a block away and crossed the street to spare them both any more than a passing familiarity with the stench.

A little ways up was a shop and Harry found himself thirsty, so they made their way inside. The novelty of having pocket money had not worn off quite yet and he grabbed a fizzy drink from the cold case with an eagerness that was almost enough to lift his bad mood away completely. On impulse he also picked a bag of crisps and a slightly bruised banana from the small selection of fresh fruit by the counter.

He had to wait behind a woman buying an entire carton of cigarettes and man exchanging some scratch tickets for a few quid that he then used to buy more tickets. When it was finally his turn, Harry placed his selections on the beat-up countertop and tried to ignore the way the teller was staring down at him.

“New are ya?” He asked, talking his time ringing up Harry’s things, he just nodded, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Saw ya with that Snape, comin’ down the other day. You ‘is son?”

Harry shrugged, wanting to just get this over with.

“Huh.” The man said, smirking with yellowed teeth as he bagged everything up, “Always figured him fer a queer.”

Harry just held out his money, the teller didn't seem to need much input from him in any case. He took his change and bag and escaped before the man could ask any more questions or start in on a rant about how the gays were destroying the country like Uncle Vernon had been prone to doing after a few bourbons.

The fizzy drink was cold and tickled his nose, so Harry figured it was worth the moment of awkwardness to get it. When he poured some out for Jax, it made the serpent sneeze and curse him; Harry smiled.

By the time they made it back to Spinner’s End, Harry was feeling much better about continuing their lesson.

Snape looked as if he hadn't moved an inch since Harry had left, but the empty mug at his elbow told differently.

Jax slithered down to the floor and over to Harry’s chair, making himself comfortable along the cushioned back.

“Sit, Mr. Potter, we need to discuss this morning.”

That sounded ominous and Harry felt his mood slipping back down.

“I can do better.” He blurted, flushing at the pleading whine in his voice, “I mean--”

Snape blinked at him, as if startled by the proclamation and waved away Harry’s concern with a flick of his wrist.

“No, you are doing as well as can be expected from someone of your... circumstances.” He paused, as if the next part cost him something to say, “I fear the fault lies with me in this cause.”

Snape scowled, tapping long fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Occlumency comes naturally to me, and I mistakenly tried to teach you in a way I see now would never have worked. Or at least would have taken far longer than desired.”

Harry nodded, feeling confused. He sat down finally, if only to give himself some sense of stability.

“Am I correct in assuming that it was your inability to see your surroundings that had you so discomfited?”

Harry gave a shallow nod, resisting the urge to kick his dangling feet in agitation. _If he wasn't so messed up, he would have been able to just sit still with his eyes closed like a normal person._

“When I taught myself, I confess it was easy for me to do this first step. But I concede your situation to be different, and your magical core may also not be developed enough to proceed with the same amount of ease.” Harry was so stunned at the idea someone could teach themselves so complicated a branch of magic to the level of Mastery that he nearly missed the other part of the statement.

“My magical core?”

Snape nodded, continuing in his lecture voice, “The part inside every magical being that they draw from to perform any magical task. Some are naturally more powerful than others, but it does not completely settle until around age nineteen.”

“So I'm too weak to learn this?” Harry felt a hot prickle of anger at the thought, it was not fair. Although, what ever was in his life?

“That is not what I said, Mr. Potter. Merely that the issue needs to be taken into account as we proceed.” The man eyed Harry, mouth curving in something between a smirk and an actual smile. “From what I have observed of you this year alone, Mr. Potter, I feel safe in saying your magical core may be the least of the problems we face in this.”

Harry relaxed a little, Jax nuzzled behind his ear and he reached up to scritch under his chin; getting a finger licked for his trouble.

“So what do we need to do?”

“We will be trying the meditation once more, but this time you may keep your eyes open. If that still does not improve things, we shall figure out another way from there.”

So they started the breathing exercises again, and although Harry felt much more at ease he still had not reached that calm, flat haze described in the book after another hour had passed.

Snape had them pause again for a meal of sandwiches. It was later in the day than Harry had realized, nearing afternoon. He wondered how long Snape was going to put up with his failure.

“Do you wish to continue?” As if reading his thoughts (although Harry knew he couldn't be, because he refused to meet the man's eye and give away how miserable he felt about his lack) Snape questioned him from across the table.

Harry swallowed the last bite of bread and cheese past a suddenly dry throat. He took a sip of water before answering.

“Yes.” It did not seem like enough, as if he should be exclaiming his enthusiasm to continue down this futile road with excited chatter. Harry did not have the energy to fake such a thing. 

He did not want to continue, but he needed to, so he would.

“Very well.” Snape motioned for him to go back into the sitting room, once more gathering up the dishes before Harry could do so himself.

Jax hissed encouragement at him and Harry tried to listen, but they had been at this for _hours_ with nothing to show for it. He had not expected to excel at it instantly, but neither had he thought he'd be so miserable at it. It was his own mind, Harry should be able to exert some sort of control over it...

When Snape joined them he did not immediately go to the other chair, instead stopping by the record cabinet and sifting through the selection before setting one to play. A soft instrumental filled the room, one filled with acoustic guitar and tinkling piano; something Harry would have assumed the stern Potion Master to have prefered before he'd flipped through the majority of his collection. It was about as far removed from the frantic, angry rawness that made up a lot of what he'd listened to yesterday as one could get. 

Harry looked at Snape curiously as he finally took his seat.

“I have a theory.” The man explained, “Usually, when one is learning to clear their minds, they seek out the dark and quiet. Both of which are clearly not working in this situation. So we will try this, for another hour, before we call a halt for the night.”

Harry nodded, unsure if the music (as nice and mellow as it was) would help, but willing to try.

So he sank back into his chair and started the slow breathing without being prompted. The music flowed around them like a lazy river, and Harry found after a few minutes that it did help distract his wandering thoughts. With something to divert his ears and nothing able to sneak up on him while he wasn't looking, Harry soon found himself slipping into a calm state. His breathing even and deep, the anxiety always present like an annoying bug at the back of his mind quieted for the first time in as long as he could remember.

“Very good, Harry. I think that's enough for tonight.” Snape’s low voice startled him out of the weird headspace he'd been occupying and Harry blinked up at the man, who had moved across the room at some point without Harry noticing.

Had it been an hour already?

“I believe we have found an excellent middle ground.” He continued, lifting the needle from where it had reached the end of the record.

“But I still didn't manage to clear my mind.” Harry protested.

He had gone a bit dazed, if the fact that Snape had apparently been able to wander about without him realizing, but not the blankness that was the goal. Harry also did not like how unaware he'd been, but he hoped that would not impede his progress.

“Indeed not, I would have been frankly astonished had you managed that on your first day.” Snape assured him, “Now that we've established a method that works well toward our goals, I have no doubt you will advance quickly.”

Somewhat mollified, Harry settled back into his chair, pulling his knees up cautiously. When Snape didn't object to feet on his furniture, he hugged his legs to his chest and frowned at the scuffed floorboards. Jax flowed down and coiled up on the little shelf made by his knees. The serpent was almost too big to fit there, and Harry was struck by the thought of how much his friend had grown over the year.

It seemed escape from the Dursleys had been good for his development, which made Harry happy. But also worried him as he remembered the warning about accidental fires that might start popping up as Jax reached closer to his majority. Not to mention the issues that arose with carting a massive snake about a school. If the size of his mother was anything to go by, Jax still had a lot of growing to do.

The rest of the evening was spent rereading the Occlumency book. At least the first few chapters before Snape had called him to dinner. Another awkwardly silent affair, but Harry was grateful the man seemed to be sticking to his promise of regular meals. Even if he never let Harry clean up afterwards, something that needled at him for reasons he could not quite parse.

Tired from being awake an unreasonable amount of time, Harry excused himself and headed upstairs to bed. He tried the meditation again, lying there in the semi-darkness with the sound of crickets, but to no avail; it was frustrating.

He spent an uncomfortable hour shifting in bed, too tired to stay awake but too exhausted to sleep. There was a couple having a screaming row somewhere down the street, which set off a few dogs barking.

Jax wriggled into a squirming ball and tucked himself into where Harry was clutching a pillow to his chest, demanding his rightful claim to Harry’s body heat.

Harry snorted and poked at the serpent, who grumbled and told him to lay still and sleep like a good heater. Harry snorted again but did as bid.

~~~~~~~>

The nightmares woke him again, but at least he'd managed to hold in any errant screams. Blinking the images of bubbling, melting flesh from his eyes, Harry glanced around. It was early enough that the sky outside his window was still inky, a couple stray stars visible through the light pollution.

He lay there for a while trying the calming breaths to ease his racing pulse, it helped a little. But Harry still felt restless and jittery, like he needed to be doing something with his hands.

After wrestling with the urge for a few minutes, he threw back the blankets and headed downstairs with a sleepy Jax in his arms. He deposited the serpent on the chair Harry had spent much of the previous day sitting in, warming the cushion with a touch. Then he went into the kitchen and quietly checked all the cupboards for what he needed, unsure if Snape would even keep such things, with the way magic could take care of so much.

But despite his misgivings, Harry did indeed find a bucket, scrub brush, a few rags and a large bottle of lemon scented cleaner; it was mostly full if bit dusty.

Satisfied, Harry filled the bucket in the sink with hot water, added the cleaner, and set about scrubbing the hell out of the floors. It took a long time, and a few refills of the bucket, but eventually Harry had managed to get most of the grime out of the tiles. They were still noticeably aged and worn down, but they no longer held the sickly yellow of neglect. Harry’s arms and back were sore and his hands raw and achy like they hadn't been in an entire _year_. 

Looking around at the shining floor, Harry still felt restless and jittery. The renewed tiles making the cupboards and appliances even shabbier by comparison. So Harry moved on to those next.

He gave the refrigerator the same treatment as the floor, rubbing away years of built up dirt until it shone a nice olive green again; instead of the drab color it had been before.

What the cupboards really needed was a fresh coat of paint, but Harry lacked the means for that. So a thorough washing was the best he could manage.

The window was an easy enough job, once he'd dragged a chair over to climb up onto counters so that he could reach it (and the higher cabinets). With a little patience and a bit of cleaner soon the dawn light was shining through the glass like new. Harry doubted so much natural light had reached the little kitchen in years and he felt a kind of warmth at making it happen.

He was halfway crawled inside the oven, scouring away years of build up when Snape spoke from behind him; an annoying habit the man seemed to have picked up. Or maybe Harry was just not paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should be. Either way, it ended in another knocked head.

“Potter, I sincerely hope you are not planning to bake yourself into a pie.”

He crawled out of the oven and glanced sheepishly up at the man. Snape was blinking in a bemused way around the kitchen, his hair a was a little sleep-tangled and he was once more wearing an open robe over soft pajamas. The sight was so incongruous with the always immaculate Potion Master that it still threw Harry a bit every time he saw it.

Then his black eyes trained on him, and Harry had to fight back a guilty gulp; he had only been cleaning, there was nothing wrong with that.

“Did I not make it clear you are not required to earn your keep?” Snape sounded weary and he was looking at Harry with something dangerously close to pity; which rankled him enough to answer.

“I couldn’t sleep.” It was a cheap ploy, but that did not make it any less true. “I needed to do something.”

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you could not have simply read? Or done some of the holiday work assigned?”

Harry shrugged, rising to his feet, and dropping the scouring pad into the bucket.

“The kitchen needed cleaning, so I cleaned it.” He may have gone a little overboard, Harry could admit at least to himself. But the jittery feeling had not gone away until his limbs were aching and the whole place stank of lemons.

Suddenly Snape was kneeling in front of him and grabbing his hands. Harry didn’t try to pull back, resisting usually led to harsher punishments.

Snape was glaring down at his reddened hands with a sort of fury that Harry did not think they merited. Sure his fingers were a bit swollen and his knuckles scraped and stinging, but there were no blisters or deep cuts, only scratches. Nothing so bad as he’d get at number four.

Nothing like after Quirrell.

“Harry.” Snape said, still glaring at his hands, long fingers holding firmly to his wrists, but not squeezing. “I am not your aunt. I will not have you slaving around the house, scrubbing floors and harming yourself so.”

Harry did try to pull back then, embarrassed, he hadn’t meant... but Snape did not relinquish his grip.

“I know that.” He managed, suddenly close to tears and unsure why. Snape sounded so spiteful and angry but not at Harry, and he did not know what to do with that. “I just-- I needed to do something.” It sounded lame, even to his own ears, but it was the truth and that seemed to be all he could manage at the moment.

Snape’s grip tightened on his wrists for a second before loosening, letting go of one entirely so as to grab the wand from his robe pocket. He waved it over Harry’s reddened hands, healing them with breathtaking ease. Harry flexed the fingers of his free hand in amazement, it was as if he hadn’t spent the last four hours scrubbing frantically. He did not know how he felt about that.

Snape squeezed his wrists gently once more, to gain his attention. Harry was reluctant to meet the man’s eyes but did so. They were serious and held a depth of feeling that Harry felt he could never see the full meaning of.

“Would it make you feel better, if I allowed you to help with the cleaning?” It seemed to have cost the man a good deal to make the offer, although Harry could not fathom why. Or why it mattered how Harry felt, either way.

“Yes.” He answered, after a moment. “I can do things, I’m not an invalid.”

And there it was, the feeling that had been nagging at him since the first time Snape had shooed him away from the kitchen and its dirty dishes. He might spend every night dreading sleep and be a tad jumpy, but Harry was not broken and did not appreciate being coddled.

Snape stared at him for a quiet moment before reluctantly nodding and releasing his remaining wrist.

“Very well, if you insist, I shall allow you to _help_ , Mr. Potter.” He eyed Harry shrewdly, “You are not to take it upon yourself to do anything like you have managed here, I will not have you injuring yourself on a matter of pride. You are a Slytherin, not some brash Gryffindor.”

That dragged a reluctant smile out of Harry, who nodded and tried not to shuffle his bare feet on the newly clean tiles.

“Yes, sir.”

Snape returned the nod and rose to his feet, “Now, I think we could both use a strong cup of tea.”

As they sat at the table, sipping from steaming mugs, Snape looked around the room again; an odd sort of faraway gaze.

“It was a thorough job.” He conceded, and Harry flushed a little, “I suppose I have let the place go a bit.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Harry fibbed, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

Snape did allow him to help with chopping vegetables up for omelets, though, even if he still did the cooking. They washed the dishes together after the meal, and Harry felt much more settled by the time they took their places in the sitting room.

Another instrumental was placed in the record player and Harry did not need prompting to begin his breathing. Jax started out in his lap, but complained about the lemon stench and slithered over to stretch across the back of Snape’s chair instead. Which Harry did not think the man appreciated very much, but tolerated in any case; so Harry let his snake have his fun.

Soon an hour had passed in the same hazy manner as the day before, and Harry came out of it to Snape once again across the room without Harry noticing. He hoped he would improve quickly, Harry did not like being so unawares.

“An improvement, Mr. Potter.” Snape told him, selecting another record. “I do believe we shall find success in this matter. One more hour, and then we will halt for today.”

“But we did it for far longer yesterday.” Harry wanted to keep going, the more he did, the faster he could master this.

“True. But that was because we were trying to establish a base method.” He set a new record down on the turntable, “The mind is like any other muscle, if you overexert it, you could do serious damage. Therefore we will be doing two hours every morning until you build up a mental stamina, at which time we shall reevaluate.”

Harry reluctantly nodded, it made sense, as much as he did not want it to. He just wished he could have control over his own mind already, it was exhausting being afraid and anxious all the time.

The new record had a soft female vocalist, who sang in French amidst slow horns and scaling piano. It was nice enough, but Harry thought he might prefer the faster, emotion driven stuff for actually listening to, as opposed to a tool for learning Occlumency.

After the second hour, Harry excused himself to a much needed shower. He thought about giving his bathroom the same treatment as the kitchen but figured that might be pushing his luck. So instead he dressed in robes for the first time since arriving at Spinner’s End and went down to find Snape.

The man raised an eyebrow from his place, reading a complex looking tome in the sitting room.

“Going somewhere?”

“My summer job.” He answered, coaxing Jax out of his arms and up to his shoulders. He did his best to sound confident in his declaration, because if Snape denied him this, of all things, Harry would be gone.

It was quiet for a moment, as the man eyed him before seeming to come to a conclusion.

“You do realize that you no longer need a job? With your inheritance to provide your school things, and myself to care for your needs in the off months?” His tone was neutral, and Harry could not get a read on what the man was actually thinking.

So he forged on ahead as planned.

“Yes. But I have worked there since I was nine, I enjoy it.” That might be a bit of a low blow, Harry had seen the way Snape cared about how he felt about things and his situation, even if Harry did not understand why.

And the man indeed looked a little pinched at the statement, marking his page in the large book with a strip of black cloth and setting it aside.

“Very well. Give me a moment, and I shall escort you to your shop.”

Harry blinked, he had not expected that. Straight up denial, an uncaring wave away, perhaps restrictions on when he was allowed to leave. But not this.

He did not know how he felt about the two sides of his world meeting so.

“That’s unnecessary.” He tried, moving towards the door. “We were going to take the Knight Bus, Jax likes it. So...”

“Potter.” Harry stopped in his tracks, shoulders a bit hunched. “I wish to see this apothecary and meet the man who would employ a nine year old. I shall be accompanying you.”

That did not sound good, and Harry felt the need to defend Mr. Jacobi from the implication.

“It’s a great shop, and Mr. Jacobi helped me when no one else would. Besides,” He added, remembering. “You’ve already met.”

Snape looked very close to rolling his eyes, grimacing at the reminder.

“I do not believe you would wish that encounter to be my final impression of the man, Mr. Potter.” His voice softened, perhaps sensing how close Harry was to bolting. “I am not condemning him out of hand, I meanly wish to establish an idea of what you will be engaging in and whom with. It is the barest minimum required of a guardian, and I would appreciate your cooperation in the endeavor.”

Oh. Harry had not thought of it that way. He had no real frame of reference for how an adult was supposed to care for a minor. He supposed it was not too much to ask to take them this once, it wasn’t as if Snape wanted to tag along every time.

“Alright.” He agreed when the man looked to be waiting for an answer.

Snape gave him a sardonic nod, which Harry guessed he sort of deserved and disappeared up the stairs.

“ _Are we leaving now? I wanna ride the bus!_ Jax hissed, bobbing his head excitedly in Harry’s peripheral vision.

“ _In a moment, buddy. Snape wants to meet Mr. Jacobi, so we’ll just have to take the bus back instead._ ” Harry would not lie, he was a bit relieved to avoid that.

Jax slumped with disappointment, and Harry stoked his snout and promised him some Ice Mice later; which cheered him up.

Snape reappeared, dressed in an intimidating set of pitch black robes that gave off an impression of power and the knowledge and skill to use it. Harry held back from rolling his eyes, but barely. He could see what Snape planned to do, and knowing Mr. Jacobi, it should be interesting to witness at least.

~~~~~~~>

Harry led the way into the apothecary, barely getting three steps inside before a loud, happy voice shouted: “Evan!” across the shop.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him and Harry shrugged but did not manage much else before he was swept up in a crushing hug by an overenthusiastic Mr. Jacobi. His feet left the ground and he let out an embarrassing squeak but was thankfully let down soon enough, though not without a thorough hair ruffling. Jax was hissing hopefully up at the stocky man and Mr. Jacobi chuckled and rubbed at his head too.

“And little Jax, so big now, they must have some fatter mice up at that school since I was last there.”

He looked Harry up and down, nodding approvingly, “And you’re looking much better as well, Evan. You’ll have to tell me all about your first year.” He finally seemed to notice Snape looming behind Harry and another wide grin bloomed over his features.

“And you’ve brought me a present, how very kind.” Mr. Jacobi eyed Snape in a way Harry did not want to contemplate right then, “Master Snape, what a lovely surprise.”

He gave the other man a sweeping bow, “Welcome to my humble apothecary.”

Snape sneered and Mr. Jacobi shot Harry a wink.

“I'm staying with Professor Snape for the summer.” Harry explained, holding in the urge to snigger with what he felt to be admirable strength.

“Is that so?” Mr. Jacobi sent a considering look back at the still scowling Potion Master. “Then I shall count myself lucky you decided to return here, with access to so remarkable a resource.”

Snape snorted, “Flattery will win you no points with me, Jacobi.”

“Oh, that I know all too well, Master Snape.” The man grinned.

“Of course I came back.” Harry interrupted before the two men could devolve into a snark fest that Harry would bet could rival one of Malfoy and Blaise’s. “Who else is there to keep your paperwork organized?”

During his last summer here, Harry had come across the disastrous mountain of receipts, order forms, notices, invoices and other various detritus that made the paper side of the business and spent a full week wrestling it into some form of structure.

Mr. Jacobi suddenly looked a bit guilty and coughed into his hand.

“Right. Yes, of course.” Harry eyed him, suddenly fearful of what he might find in the little back office. “How about some tea!” 

And with that he bounded away before Harry could question him about the paperwork.

“He seems... enthusiastic.” Snape commented, still scowling after Mr. Jacobi.

“I bit, yeah.” Harry agreed with a shrug, “But he's nice enough.”

Snape glanced down at him, gaze searching.

“I suppose he is that.” A pause and the return of a raised eyebrow. “ _Evan_.”

Harry flushed and rubbed the toe of one boot against the floorboards, embarrassed.

“I may have started here under a false name.”

Snape just nodded, a smirk curving the corner of his mouth.

“A wise decision.”

Before Harry could burn up from the amount of blushing he seemed to be doing since stepping foot in the apothecary, Mr. Jacobi called them up to the counter. Snape did his best to stride over as intimidatingly as possible, but the tall shelves housing the various ingredients for sale impeded the billowing of his robes a bit as he walked between them. The effect was still an impressive one, just by the way Snape always seemed to be; if one hadn't recently seen the man with sleep mussed hair and barefooted.

Harry hid his smile by finding his stool behind the counter and climbing up, he saw his apron and bandana neatly folded where he'd left them last summer; which had him smiling for a whole other reason.

Mr. Jacobi poured three cups of tea and a saucer for Jax, who slid down from Harry’s shoulders to coil up on the counter. Mr. Jacobi offered Snape his own stool with a bright smile, but Snape declined staying on the far side of the counter. Harry thought he might have refused the tea as well, if he could have thought of a polite enough way to do so.

It was an awkward few minutes while they sipped their cups. Harry got the feeling Snape wanted a private word with the other man and excused himself to the bathroom if only to hasten the Potion Master’s departure. As amusing as it was to watch the ever-sunny Mr. Jacobi going up against what had to be his polar opposite in Snape, Harry did actually want to spend some time here alone.

The apothecary held no bad memories. It was nice.

Instead of going to the bathroom, Harry popped into the office to see what sort of chaos had been wrought. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, he decided, after poking around the towering mounds of parchment covering the desk. Everything was more or less in separate piles, so it should not take too long to fix. And fewer than a year’s worth of paperwork was far less than what he'd had to slog through the previous summer.

By the time he made it back out to the main floor, Snape and Mr. Jacobi seemed to be in the middle of a hushed and serious sounding discussion. Mr. Jacobi looking far more grim than Harry prefered. He tried to listen in a little, before making himself known, but Snape must have put up his muffling spell because he couldn't make out any words. Harry made a mental note to learn how to read lips.

They stopped talking as Harry retook his seat, and he pretended that he hadn't interrupted whatever dressing down Snape felt he needed to give. Mr. Jacobi went back to grinning at him and offered a plate of ginger newts he'd scrounged up from somewhere. Harry took one, Snape did not.

“Mr. Potter,” The man said a moment later, setting down his cup of half finished tea. “I believe you to be in... adequate hands here. Therefore I shall return in the afternoon to retrieve you.”

Harry was so surprised at the statement, he nearly dropped his newt. He'd gotten the impression Snape did not like Mr. Jacobi, but perhaps they had been speaking of something else?

Also, “We were going to take the Knight Bus back.” Harry admitted, offering his snake a bit of soggy biscuit, Jax flicked his forked tongue at it a few times before snatching up the morsel.

Snape scowled at the mention of the bus and Harry mentally followed suit.

“I shall pick you up today.” He repeated, “But if you truly wish to ride that infernal contraption, you may do so on other occasions.”

Harry agreed to the compromise because it meant Snape was going to continue to let Harry come back. When he repeated the news to Jax, the serpent slithered over butted up against Snape's hand until the man relented and stroked the wiggling snake.

He bade Harry a stern farewell and Mr. Jacobi also, who grinned and insisted on being called Ezra. Snape had not returned the favor, but that didn't seem to bother the man, who then escorted the Potion Master to the door. Snape Disapparated in a dramatic swirl of black and Harry didn't bother holding in his snort.

Mr. Jacobi returned to the counter and clapped his hands together loudly once, grinning.

“I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about we order some lunch in from Puri’s?”

Harry grinned back.


	4. Chapter 4

After that first (painfully awkward) week, things at Spinner’s End fell into a routine. Harry continued to wake before the sun, but instead of going on any frantic cleaning sprees, he would read or work on his holiday assignments. Snape, either because he was also an early riser or because he knew Harry to be, would get up not long after dawn to make breakfast for them both. Sometimes he would allow Harry to assist him, other times shoo him away from the kitchen. Either way, he let Harry pick out something to listen to while they ate.

Then it would be two hours of Occlumency, which Harry was making slow but consistent progress with. By the third week, he was mostly able to fall into a meditative state within five minutes, although his awareness was still not what he would prefer. Snape had reassured him that control would come in time, that Harry was doing remarkably for his age. It would have sounded patronising coming from any other source, but even if Harry did not completely trust the man, he _did_ respect him; so Harry would try and be patient with himself.

After the morning lessons, Snape usually left them to their own devices. Jax liked exploring the back garden and all its magical and mundane plants. Asking endless questions about what uses they had and why they smelled the way they did and looked so different from their dried and processed brothers at the apothecary. As he read to his snake out of a thick horticulture book from Snape's collection, he wondered if it was possible to teach someone Parseltongue, because surely Longbottom and Jax would find plenty of enthusiastic common ground in the subject.

Although, the Gryffindor was still shy around the serpent, so he would probably not be interested in learning; if it even were possible. Or he might, just to have a captive audience for the rambling the other boy tended to do. It might be easier to work on Jax’s English skills, Harry got the feeling he was going to be regulated to the go-between if the serpent ever realized just how much Longbottom liked to talk about plants.

Sometimes Snape was tending the back garden and Harry would help him. The first time, he had not managed to hide his surprise when the man handed over a pair of thick work gloves, which had led to a stormy look and frankly unnecessary brutality to the weeds trying to make a home among the basil. Snape hadn't said anything, but Harry knew he had done something to earn the man's ire.

It had taken nearly two full hours for Harry to realize it was not him that Snape was furious at, but the telling reaction showing plainly how Petunia had trained him to do things. A way that was apparently not to the Potion Master’s standard, but not in any way that Harry would have guessed; at least not right away. Snape cared that he used gloves and was upset that Harry had not thought to use them, or perhaps catching that his aunt had refused him use for so long it had become habit to expect none.

As much as Harry was used to accepting blame for things out of his own control, this time he could not help but feel that maybe it _was_ Petunia deserving of the black looks Snape was giving to the usurping vegetation. The thought cemented when Snape had them stop shortly thereafter for a lunch break and made sure Harry drank at least two full glasses of water along with his sandwich.

When they resumed, he chose to work next to the man instead of across the yard. They still didn't talk, but that was fine with Harry.

If he wasn't doing (voluntary) yard work or school things, then they were down in the basement brewing. Although he wasn't a hundred percent sure, Harry suspected the place to be magically expanded. The shelves of ingredients and equipment going further back than seemed possible, judging by the size of the floor above.

It was a little creepy down there too, and Harry could not help feeling a bit claustrophobic with the low ceiling and dark recesses. Jax didn't mind the environment so much, eagerly slithering off to explore the shadows. Snape seemed to notice his mood however, and conjured a brighter light that hung near the center of the room and lit most of the space, as opposed to just the work area.

Again, the man didn't say anything about it, which Harry appreciated. He set Harry to chopping fresh daisy roots, and soon he forgot about the uneasiness. It reminded Harry of the winter holidays, which he'd enjoyed. Well, the brewing parts at least, he could have done without the emotional trauma of starting the case against his relatives. The fact that it had ended so well only helped so much.

During the first trip to the basement, Snape had Harry assist in making bases for use in other potions. It was something he'd done at the apothecary more times than he could recall.

“Very good, Mr. Potter.” Snape said at one point, inspecting the alkalinity of the thick paste in the bottom of Harry’s cauldron. “I've had fifth years struggle to achieve such.”

Harry flushed at the praise, unsure how to respond; so he just bottled up the results and moved on to the next task. Jax reappeared covered in dust and trailing cobwebs.

“ _There’s a lot of stuff in here._ ” The serpent hissed, while Harry ran a damp cloth over his scales to clear away all the grime. “ _Almost as much as at Mr. Jacobi’s. Is Snape planning to open a shop?_ ”

“ _I doubt it._ ” Harry looked around the space, there _was_ a lot of stuff on the shelves, but not nearly to the quantity that the apothecary held. Although Harry would wager that every bit was to an exacting standard of quality “ _Snape’s a Potion Master, he probably just likes to keep most everything on hand._ ”

Jax wriggled under the cloth, giving Harry the impression the snake had gotten so dirty just to elicit some free pets from him; sneaky thing. Harry tickled his sides until Jax squirmed away, hissing curses.

Snape raised an eyebrow while stirring his cauldron in a figure-eight, the potion inside turning from puke green to bright orange before fading to a nice amber.

“What are you making?” He asked, curious.

“Elixir for Calm Thoughts.” Snape answered, pointing to a tiny vial of lavender oil. “Hand me that, if you would.”

Harry passed it over, watching as Snape deftly added three drops to the brew. It started bubbling slightly and giving off a thin, silver steam.

“Now we wait five minutes, and then set it to distil for four hours.” Snape explained, turning the dial on an old egg timer resting on a shelf above them.

“Is it to help with Occlumency?” It seemed a logical conclusion, given the name, but Snape shook his head.

“No, Occlumency is best learned without aid of potions or other such outside forces. You must learn the control yourself, or otherwise risk never truly mastering your own mind.”

“Then what’s it for?”

“It does just what it says, Mr. Potter.” Snape smirked down at him, although Harry got the feeling he might be teasing instead of mocking. He was getting the hang of parsing the man’s expressions, it was all in the eyebrows. “A potion for calming one’s thoughts. Although not recommended for those learning or employing Occlumency, it is otherwise useful to those untrained in the skill. Offering a brief window of time in which one might think on things logically and thoroughly without undue emotional interference.”

“So like a shortcut?” Harry asked, eyeing the still bubbling cauldron. “Wouldn’t it be better just to learn Occlumency? Instead of relying on potions?”

“Just so.” Snape confirmed, stepping over to a shelving unit holding various brewing equipment and coming back with a medium sized, circular bowl with a glass tube coiling from the bottom. “Although _some_ feel they do not need to hone such a skill if they have the resources to purchase such shortcuts.” It was said with such heavy sarcasm that Harry could not hold back a snort, Snape smirked again.

“Who is this for then?”

“This particular batch is going off to Lucius Malfoy.” Snape answered as the egg timer went off. Harry watched as the man smoothly adjusted the flame under the cauldron and slipped the bowl snugly over the top. He then placed a smaller cauldron under the open end of the glass tube, where it would catch the distilled brew. “It will need to distill three times before adding the final ingredients,” Snape said before Harry could ask, beginning to clear away his workspace; Harry hurried to help.

Snape spoke at length about the potion and its origin, why this plant was favored over that in the brewing, why the preciseness of the figure-eights was key. He also went on a bit of a rant over the number of distillations necessary, apparently a contention between him and a rival potioneer in the Netherlands. It was a fascinating lecture and had Harry itching to try making the potion himself, but even he could see it might be just a hair out of his skill range at the moment. There were pages and pages of very precise steps one needed to follow, and a high risk of catastrophic failure. He did not want to pull a Longbottom in the Potion Master’s own home. So he would stick to what he could reasonably manage until he felt more confident in his own skillset.

One day he came back from the apothecary to a, slightly scorched, letter. Harry could recognize Blaise’s slanted script even before he read the address on the heavy envelope. Harry had never gotten a letter from a friend before, unless you counted Mr. Jacobi, which Harry did but it felt like that was different than getting one from somebody his own age.

“It arrived by Floo about an hour after you departed.” Snape said as Harry was still just clutching the letter. “I expect Mr. Zabini realized it to be far more efficient a method than sending an owl all the way from Italy.”

“Thank you.” He managed, before rushing up the stairs.

Harry barely made it into his room before opening the missive. The envelope was made of a heavy parchment, no doubt so that it would better survive the long trip through the Floo. Inside were three pages filled with neatly slanted Italian, and Harry settled on his bed to read. Jax slithered over to nap on his warm stone, full from the two mice Mr. Jacobi had fed him earlier.

The letter was full of descriptions of the Zabini Villa, the hot weather, complaints over the lengths of the essays assigned, scathing remarks about the new man his mother was allowing to court her, and other seemingly bland topics. Harry, pretty well versed in seeing what his friend usually meant when not speaking about a topic, could see how troubled the other boy still was over the events at the end of the year. 

Harry doubted he had anyone to talk to, or that he felt comfortable speaking with about such things. He got the feeling Blaise’s mother was a bit cold and distant, and a long string of stepfathers did not encourage bonding. Harry was glad the other boy had written to him, even if he was struggling to help himself, at least Harry could send some comfort to a friend in need. That he himself refused to talk to anyone about anything was not something he wished to examine further at the moment. Helping others had always come easier than doing the same for himself.

So he sat at the desk and composed a letter just as convoluted at the one Blaise had sent, describing his summer so far in broad terms and being as circumspect as he could in offering advice to his friend.

He felt it good practise for both honing his cunningness and for keeping up with the language. Harry did not want to backslide on his Italian and made a mental note to order some books in the language, to help.

When he finished the letter, it was nearly as long as Blaise’s had been and dusk had fallen. He had to borrow a heavy envelope from Snape, who did not even hesitate in handing one over, before he could send the missive on its way. It was odd, to throw a letter he’d been working so long on straight into a fireplace, but it did not catch fire, instead spinning out of sight and into the ether.

“I trust Mr. Zabini is well?” Snape asked as they sat down to plates of roast chicken and vegetables (something Harry felt Snape did a much better job at than Petunia ever had).

“As well as can be expected.” Harry shrugged, stabbing at a carrot, Jax poked his head up and eyed the potatoes speculatively.

Snape hmm’d, and Harry felt a momentary flash of guilt for giving even that much away, but the man did not press.

After a few more minutes of silent eating, Snape spoke again, but it was not about Blaise.

“I also received a letter today.” Harry looked up from his plate curiously, “We’ve been invited to Malfoy Manor, for brunch this Saturday.”

Saturday was only four days away, that was not nearly enough time to fortify himself against the amount of snobbery Harry was no doubt about to be subjected to.

“Do we have to go?” He blurted before he could stop himself, but luckily Snape merely snorted in amusement.

“I fear so, to do otherwise would evoke unpleasant repercussions amongst your own housemates. A single awkward afternoon is not too much to bear, versus the perpetual ire I know my godson capable of.” Snape rolled his eyes a bit, as if fully aware of how petty Draco could get when not given his way.

The boy was spoiled just as bad as Dudley had been, with a mean streak just as wide. But Harry had also seen a nicer side to the blonde, and perhaps if he did not outright antagonize the other boy, Harry could influence him into being better. Or have Jax do it for him. Harry held no illusions over who was more favored in Malfoy’s eye.

“Okay.” He finally answered with a nod, “What are we expected to wear?” This was a Most Ancient and Noble House he was about to visit, and from what he’s learned from Malfoy over the year, they held with tradition strictly.

Snape gave him a satisfied look, as if he could see what Harry was scheming and approved.

“Robes, elegant, but nothing too ostentatious. It is only brunch, not one of Lady Malfoy’s famed parties.” He eyed Harry’s head, “And perhaps try and tame that mop of yours, if such a feat is even possible.”

Harry snorted, clearly hearing the playful teasing this time.

“ _Are you going to eat those?_ ” Jax was nearly up on the table now, nosing at the potatoes left on Harry’s plate.

Harry rolled his eyes at the serpent, “ _Aren’t you still full from those mice?_ ” He asked, even as he pushed a chunk of tuber closer.

“ _But, potatoes..._ ” Jax reasoned, snapping up said vegetable, Harry could not really argue the logic.

His serpent had been eating more this last week, which usually precipitated a growth spurt and subsequent shedding. Harry hoped Jax might slow down a little on the growing front, but it also seemed a sign that his friend felt safe enough to let himself mature further. He’d been holding himself back at the Dursleys, in fear of discovery, something in his magical nature allowing him to stay small for so long. Now that he had room and freedom to grow, Harry could not really blame the snake for doing so, even if it might make things a little complicated later on. Harry wished _he_ could will himself taller, but the most he’d ever managed was growing out his hair.

~~~~~~~>

Saturday dawned like any other day, although Harry had taken a dose of Dreamless Sleep the night before, knowing the added stress of nightmares would not help him keep a cool head. The Occlumency lessons that morning did help calm his nerves, if nothing else.

He dressed in one of the nicer robes he'd purchased in Diagon. It was made of a lighter fabric, so he would not suffer so much in the summer heat, dyed predominantly a light gray with darker accents. It was far less severe than the ones he'd worn to court, instead of buttoning up high under his throat, they instead had a more open collar that left a deep vee open at the front. Harry donned a lavender tunic under the robes, along with a nicer pair of gray slacks.

He kept his boots, they were more comfortable than the loafers and of high enough quality that he figured they would pass muster for what was supposed to be a semi-casual visit. He did concede slightly by clipping the silver cufflinks into their given place on his robe sleeves. Wearing the gift would probably do _something_ towards making up for his disaster of a haircut.

After feeling he had procrastinated as much a possible, Harry scooped Jax up to his shoulders so that they could go meet Snape downstairs. 

The Potion Master was waiting in the sitting room, dressed not nearly as intimidatingly as he had when dropping Harry off at the apothecary a few weeks ago, although unsurprisingly still entirely in black. Harry wondered how the man did not boil alive in the muggy heat. He had yet to see Snape in anything more revealing than bare feet and a terrycloth robe over more layers. Even when they worked in the garden the man wore long sleeves and never once pushing them up, no matter how warm it got. The only concession Harry had witnessed was one day when they had been out there a good while, Snape had tied his long hair up into a slightly messy bun. It had only happened once, but Harry had added the image to his growing pile of reasons the Potion Master was not nearly as scary as he probably wanted people to think.

“Ready to depart, Mr. Potter?”

Snape sounded about as enthused as Harry felt. In fact, Jax seemed to be the only one actually excited about going. But that was because he was a spoiled serpent that knew Malfoy was most likely about to spend a good chunk of their visit petting him. Well, at least one of them was going to have a good time.

Harry nodded, taking a deep, calming breath. Mentally preparing himself and pulling up a pleasantly natural mask to hide his nervousness.

“Yes, sir.”

Snape gave him a once over before nodding his approval (with only a slight linger on his head) and extended an elbow. Harry grabbed hold and Jax slithered down to wrap around their joined limbs like a living rope.

A half step to the left, a terrible squeezing, and suddenly they were no longer standing in Snape's sitting room, but outside a pair of high, ethereal gates. Harry could see a long drive leading beyond the barrier, lined in precisely cut grass and neatly trimmed, evenly spaced trees.

Snape waved a hand through the odd gates and they dissipated like smoke.

“What would have happened if I'd tried that?” He asked curiously as they walked through the now open passage, gravel crunching under his boots.

“Depending on your intents, something as unpleasant as a hard shove backwards and compulsion to be anywhere else, to a nasty lingering pain curse, or even outright death if the wards think it necessary.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked behind him at the reformed gates.

“It’s not illegal to employ deadly force in your wards?” That seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

“The Malfoy’s are a very old and _very_ powerful family. This manor and grounds have been around for centuries, the wards laid down and layered upon for all of that time. They enjoy their privacy when not showing off that wealth.”

Harry thought for a moment, “You did not answer my question.” A pause, “Which I suppose is an answer in itself.”

If you were rich and powerful enough, you really could get away with just about anything.

“Just so, Mr. Potter.” Snape eyed him approvingly as they continued the long walk up to the manor.

They passed the entrance to an elaborate looking flower garden, dotted with white marble benches among the colorful foliage, with a tinkling fountain at the center that had water shooting out of a stone peacock’s beak to splash down into a shimmering pool.

They also passed actual peacocks on the way. They were indeed all albino, as Malfoy had claimed, although he'd never mentioned the mean look they carried about them. Jax slithered to the far side of Harry’s shoulders when they passed the large birds, who were eyeing his serpent with far too much malice in their beady gazes.

After the peacocks, they rounded a bend and finally got a full view of the manor. It was large and sprawling, bigger than even the primary school Harry had attended. There were ivy vines crawling tastefully up the sides and it gave off the impression of extreme wealth.

From what Harry had gathered over the year from Malfoy’s ramblings, it was only him, his mother, and father that lived here. Surely three people did not need nearly so much space?

“ _I don't like those snooty birds._ ” Jax hissed in his ear, and Harry did not need to look to know the serpent was glaring daggers behind them. “ _They’re up to something..._ ”

Harry did not dispute it, figuring it was more likely true than not. Instead, he just stroked a few soothing fingers down Jax’s warm scales.

“ _We're almost to the door, don't worry._ ”

The main entrance looked like it was trying to compete with Hogwarts for biggest doors, luckily there was a smaller one off to the side a bit that Snape led them to. A few seconds after the man knocked firmly on the heavy door, a house elf opened it with a bow.

“Welcome sirs, Master and Mistress have been expecting yous. Follow me and I’s be showing yous to the Ivory Room.”

The elf was dressed in what looked to be a clean pillowcase with the Malfoy family crest neatly stitched into a corner. Harry followed a close step behind Snape as the elf led them through the expansive entryway. The ceiling was high, with twinkling chandeliers at spaced intervals, the floors a dark marble that echoed under their steps.

Lining the hall were moving paintings, like at Hogwarts, but these seemed to hold an abnormally large amount of blondes glaring down their noses at him; family portraits then. A few landscapes were interspersed amongst the paintings, lending a little warmth to a walk that was no doubt supposed to be intimidating.

The Ivory Room turned out to be a lot more cozy than Harry was expecting. It was tastefully decorated in smooth whites. A chaise lounge lined one side of a low table made of a pale wood, with a trio of matching armchairs on the other side. The furniture was by no means squishy but looked comfortable enough. There was a fireplace tucked into one corner, but not lit, and bookcases running around the room that looked to be made of the same pale wood as the table. The far wall was dominated by a set of french doors that were pulled open to allow both a fragrant breeze to blow into the space and alleviate some of the summer heat and natural light to bring an extra brightness to the area.

There was nobody else in the room, which Harry was grateful for, since he doubted he would have been able to completely hide his surprise at how... _nice_ the room was. Given the somewhat oppressive lead up.

The elf left them with a bow and promise that they would be joined shortly by their hosts. Snape immediately took the chair nearest the open doors, either because it offered a hasty exit point or so that he would not be forced to sit between two other people, Harry wasn't sure which. Or perhaps it was his normal spot, Malfoy had said the man would visit often enough, he probably had a spot he thought of as his. Then again, Harry might just be thinking about things too hard in order to distract himself from the situation.

Instead of sitting (Harry was sure he would not be able to remain still), he took a loop of the room. Inspecting all the books and other sundries displayed on the shelves. None of it was the kitschy dancing cats or snowglobes that had decorated Mrs. Figg’s sitting room. No, these all looked to be hand picked for how well they would complement the room, and Harry doubted any one piece cost less than what his uncle would make in an entire paycheck.

There were no portraits in the room, thankfully.

“Do you come here often? Being Malfoy’s godfather?” He asked Snape when he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

“A few times a summer, less now that he has grown older.” Snape answered from his place, calmly seated, he had acquired a book from somewhere and was flipping through the pages slowly.

Jax stretched his neck towards a particularly expensive looking trinket and Harry took a hasty step back before the snake could do any accidental damage.

“Have you known them long? The Malfoys?” Harry was asking, both to distract himself and because he was curious about how Severus Snape, a half-blood from Cokeworth ended up guardian for the only son of one of the most powerful pureblood wizarding Houses.

Snape seemed to hesitate slightly before answering, fingering a page in his book, as if thinking of the best way to do so without giving away something vital. Which make Harry suspect it was not going to be a full truth, even if it were not technically a lie.

“Lucius was a sixth year when I started at Hogwarts, so we've known each other a fair while.”

There was more to the explanation, Harry knew, but he let the matter drop for now. Not wanting to annoy the man with endless, invasive questions. Snape seemed a very private person, and Harry doubted he would get away with any sort of targeted inquiry, no matter how curious he suddenly was.

A moment later the door leading into the manor opened once more, admitting the same elf from before who was now bowing so low as to almost brush his long nose on the white carpet. A tall, willowy blonde woman entered, dressed in elegant silver robes that resembled a dress more than anything and an even taller blonde man with hair nearly as long as Snape's, in a darker, but no less tailored outfit. He also carried a cane that Harry figured was more for show than for any real need for assistance, it had a silver handle in the shape of a hissing snake and what looked to be real emeralds for eyes. He seemed vaguely familiar, Harry had probably seen him around Diagon.

“Severus, darling, it has been too long.” The woman said, taking quick, flowing steps over to the Potion Master.

Snape closed his book and rose, accepting the faux kisses she laid on each of his cheeks with his usual stoicism; obviously well used to the gesture.

“Narcissa, you look lovely as always.”

She turned to Harry next and he hastily dipped into as smooth of a bow as he could manage, in an effort to avoid any similar treatment.

“Lady Malfoy, I am thankful to meet you, Draco always speaks very highly of you.”

She laughed, a quiet thing that Harry was unable to determine if it was mocking or not.

“Such a sweet thing, my Draco.” She waved a delicate hand, rings gleaming in the light. “And such manners from you, Mr. Potter, I am honored you accepted our invitation to brunch on such short notice.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Malfoy.” He gave another little bow, relieved it was going so well.

Lady Malfoy waved her husband forward from where he had been standing back and observing the exchange with a shewed eye.

“Mr. Potter.” The man said, looking down his pointed nose at Harry, although he suspected the man might not know any other way to view a person, given the haughty way he carried himself. “A pleasure, I'm sure, and who is your little friend here?”

“Lord Malfoy,” He was unsure if he should go for another bow, or answer the question, it had been a while since he'd read any of the etiquette books. Harry also did not really care for the way the man was eyeing Jax, something in his manner that warned of caution. “This is my familiar, Jax. Will Draco be joining us?”

A bit of an obvious deflection, but it was all he could think of. Jax, sensing his unease, wriggled around to bump his head against Harry’s temple, he raised a hand to scratch under his chin in thanks.

Lord Malfoy watched the brief exchange with sharp gray eyes, hand tightening on his cane but a placid smile gracing his features, a shallow attempt to put Harry at ease. It did not work.

“I fear he is running a bit late, the boy does enjoy his lie ins, he should be along shortly. Why don't we have some tea while we wait, hmm?”

He snapped his fingers at the elf by the door, “Tovy, a tea service, and do go make sure my son is quite ready for company.”

“Yes, Master Malfoy, I’s is being right back.”

The elf disappeared with a last bow and soft crack.

Lady Malfoy gestured him to take a seat and Harry gratefully sunk into the one next to Snape, the Malfoys taking the lounge.

“So, Harry dear, may I call you Harry?” Lady Malfoy asked, in a voice that did not bode well towards refusal.

“Of course, Lady Malfoy.” He said politely, just as a silver tray laden with a delicate china set and tiny biscuits that glistened with sprinkled sugar appeared on the table.

Lady Malfoy did the honors and poured for everyone.

“So, Harry, how are you liking Hogwarts? I was ever so pleased to hear from Draco that you had been sorted into my own House.” She handed Harry a cup and saucer, with one sugar and a splash of cream, it was a little disconcerting that she knew how he took it without having asked. The cup was decorated with pretty white and yellow flowers that Harry recognized as Lady Malfoy’s namesake.

“Thank you.” He said, taking a polite sip before answering, it was excellent tea. “I enjoy it very much, there is so much to learn, and being in Slytherin has already helped my means more than I believe any other House would.”

“Naturally.” She took a delicate sip of her own tea, and through some trick managed not to clink the cup against the saucer as Harry had. “And what is your favorite subject?”

“Potions.” That was easy, he might just survive this day without embarrassing himself too much.

Lady Malfoy laughed again, “Truly? You are not just saying so because dear Severus is brooding right next to you?”

Snape snorted, smirking into his cup.

“The boy doesn't lie, Cissy, he was top of his year by a significant margin.”

Harry flushed, ducking his head, he'd been sure Granger was close behind him but could not stop the unexpected rise of pride within himself.

Jax bobbed his head down to steal a bit of tea.

“How lovely that you are staying with Severus then, so that you may further explore your interests in the summer months.” It was not the most subtle of transitions, but Harry supposed he could not blame Lady Malfoy for being curious.

However, that did not mean he was about to spill all of his secrets.

“It's been very nice, yes. Professor Snape has allowed me to assist in his brewing on a number of occasions.” He grabbed one of the tiny, little biscuits and dipped it in his tea, offering it to Jax; who snapped it up readily.

“ _That's good, but not as good as the cold mice, where is that little blonde with my treats?_ ” Jax glared at the door, as if willing Malfoy to appear.

Harry couldn't hold in a snort, stroking his friend’s snout.

“ _He should be here soon, probably slept the whole morning away. I'm sure he'll have lots of attention for you._ ”

Harry turned back to their hosts, expecting more questions, to see Lord Malfoy had gone a tad paler in the face and Lady Malfoy was gripping her cup in a rather more forceful manner than necessary. They both recovered quickly, but Harry had seen enough.

“So, Draco was indeed not exaggerating when he spoke of your ability.” Lord Malfoy said, eyeing them both with gray eyes the same shade as his son's; although these did a much better job at hiding what he was thinking.

Harry was a bit miffed that Malfoy had been blabbing about him, but unsurprised. Especially given his obvious infatuation with Jax.

“Have you always had this ability, Mr. Potter?” Lord Malfoy asked, fingers flexing on the snakehead handle of his cane.

“As long as I can remember, Jax has been with me since I was eight.” He stoked the tail hanging over his shoulder, drawing comfort from the smooth, familiar scales.

“Fascinating.” Lord Malfoy shared an unreadable look with Snape, but before any more questions could be directed Harry’s way, the door opened once more and Malfoy finally appeared.

He looked just as fastidiously immaculate as usual, with carefully picked clothes and the same unfortunately slicked back hair that he favored for whatever reason. Harry was not fooled however, he'd spent an entire school year sharing a dorm with the other boy, and could tell by the slight bleariness around his eyes that he'd probably woken up barely an hour beforehand. Which was about the quickest Harry had witnessed Malfoy get ready, so that was telling at least.

“Mother,” He strode forward to drop a kiss to Lady Malfoy’s cheek, “Father, Uncle Severus.” Both received nods before he turned to take the seat next to Harry.

“Hello, Harry, I'm so glad you came to visit.” He said with a pleasant enough smile, but his eyes were trailing down in an obvious manner. “Hello, Jax, I have something for you.”

Yeah, that was more what Harry had been expecting, and refrained from both snorting _and_ rolling his eyes. Jax had perked up at the sound of his name and was looking at Draco with the snake equivalent to puppy dog eyes. Draco visibly melted at it, digging into his robe pocket and pulling out a wriggling candy mouse and holding it out to the serpent. Jax shot forward and snatched it from Malfoy’s fingers lightening quick and gulping it down nearly as fast. Draco grinned and scratched under the serpent’s jaw.

“ _Spoiled thing._ ” Harry teased, as Jax slithered off of Harry’s shoulders and along Malfoy’s arm to coil in his lap so as to be better positioned to receive maximum pets and treats.

“ _It’s not my fault the boy has good taste._ ” Jax replied smugly, leaning into Draco’s stroking fingers.

“What did he say?” Malfoy asked, oblivious to how utterly Harry’s snake had him trained.

“He said thanks.” Harry fibbed, and now both of them were looking far too smug for him to take much more of; so he turned back to his tea.

Snape looked quietly amused but if the elder Malfoy’s had any objections, Harry had missed them. 

Lady Malfoy set down her cup.

“Well, now that we are all present, shall we retire to the veranda for brunch?”

Harry gladly agreed, the niceness of the room did not do enough to displace how awkward he felt being surrounded by such obvious wealth. He knew, on an intellectual level that he was pretty well off himself now, but the fact of it had not really ingrained itself in him. Yes, he bought books and had purchased an entire wardrobe that first summer, but he did not think he would ever have want or need of a house elf, or to live in so absurdly large a space; just because he could afford to.

They followed Lady Malfoy out the french doors to an open air seating area. The ground was covered in rustic, burnt orange tiles formed into a twisting mosaic that Harry found quite beautiful. He told Lady Malfoy so and she offered up a more genuine looking smile in return.

“You are sweet, Harry.” She laid a few gentle fingers on his shoulder and he did his best not to flinch, mostly succeeding, she did not mention anything at least. “There is a much more impressive display in the east wing solarium. If you are truly interested, I'm sure Draco would be most pleased to show you after the meal?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

She smiled approvingly and moved away to where her husband was holding a seat out for her at the long metal table that took up much of the tiled space. There was a roof extending from the house and over the area, providing shade. Potted plants were spaced along the edge, filled with the fragrant flowers he'd been smelling in the Ivory Room.

He once again sat by Snape, who was next to Lord Malfoy at the head of the table. Draco settled across from him, next to his mother, with Jax now lounging across the blonde's shoulders like a living accessory. The snake winked at Harry, who couldn't stop the smirk from tugging at his mouth.

Luckily a contingent of house elves arrived just then, carrying shiny silver platters with delicate looking morsels piled on them. They served everybody with swift efficiency and soon Harry’s plate was filled with fancy foods he could not begin to name, in portion sizes he would rather be larger. But he knew better than to complain, he could always eat more back at Spinner’s End.

The elves had also poured him a half glass of pale red wine, which he was unsure if he should actually drink or not. Would it be rude to refuse? He did not want to look foolish.

A side glance at Snape got him a tiny nod, so Harry took a cautious sip. It was more bitter than he had expected, and kind of dry, but after a few seconds not so bad. Harry didn't think he would ever be a wine lover, but it wasn't terrible.

The food on the other hand was very hit and miss. Harry liked most of the tiny cheese and meat combinations on top of little pieces of toasted breads, but did not care for what he suspected to be caviar; it was far too salty. There was a runny cheese that also did not agree with him, though that was mostly due to the smell.

He cleared his plate, nonetheless.

Thankfully there was another course after, this one a cold soup that was much better than the frilly first course. 

Harry was grateful he'd read so much about etiquette in his early days, because there were far too many utensils on the table for one person to reasonably need. He remembered the general rule of starting from the outside and moving in, which helped. And if he was unsure he could always sneak a glance at Snape, who had an uncanny ability to know when Harry was at a loss. Perhaps because he had been in Harry’s situation and knew what to expect.

The conversation stayed pleasant enough. Lord and Lady Malfoy thankfully moving on from questioning Harry to speaking with Snape about something to do with the school governors, of which Lord Malfoy was apparently a member.

Harry was mostly left alone through the rest of the meal, as Draco was distracted by Jax. He didn't mind so much, used to being ignored. Harry actually prefered to remain quiet and observe the goings on around him, so as not to be caught off guard by something.

The third and final course was some type of small bird that wasn't chicken but Harry would be hard pressed to name. It tasted good though.

After the last of the food was cleared away, Lady Malfoy shooed them off, so that the grownups could talk. It was a little patronising, but Harry didn't really want to be the target of more invasive questions so he did not protest.

He trailed behind Malfoy as the boy gave him a tour of the more public parts of the manor. He was obviously very proud of his home and heritage, as he gave a bit of history about every room they entered and some of the things inside them.

The promised solarium was indeed an impressive sight. The entire floor of the expansive glass-walled room was covered in different colored tiles coming together to form a scene of what was either two dragons fighting or dancing together, he could not tell which.

“Watch this.” Malfoy commanded, and bent down to touch a particular green tile.

Suddenly the entire floor was alive and moving, the dragons twisting around each other in tandem flight, breathing jets of masonic fire.

“Wow...” Harry breathed, impressed.

“Mother had it commissioned when I was born.” Malfoy stated smugly, although in this instance Harry would let it pass, it really was a beautiful present.

“ _We should get one of these when we get our own house._ ” Jax hissed, slipping down from Malfoy to inspect the floor. “ _Ooh, it tingles._ ”

Harry snorted as Jax weaved from one end of the room to the other happily. Harry promised himself that they would, however far into the future that was.

“Do you want to go flying? I have my own Quidditch pitch out on the grounds.” Malfoy asked, also watching Jax slither swiftly across a dragon’s gaping maw.

Harry knew very well that the blonde had his own pitch, he had gone on and on about it when he'd found out first years were ineligible for the House teams. Harry just nodded though, flying sounded fun. Which was not something he had anticipated the day being.

He scooped up Jax in the way, who pouted but went easily enough.

Malfoy led them to an expansive stench of open lawn with the familiar three goals on either end. There were a couple high seats for anyone wishing to watch and a tented area on the ground for others that preferred to stay earthbound. There was also a shed to the side that housed all sorts of brooms and equipment.

Malfoy handed him a pair of dragonhide gloves and a broom that looked miles better than the rickety school ones.

“I've only got a couple Nimbus 2000s right now.” He said with a sigh, like it was such a hardship owning multiples of one of the best brooms out there. “Father says he'll buy the whole team 2001s if I make it this year.”

“Are you going to tell them that first?” It did seem a very Malfoyish thing to do, bribing his way onto the team.

The blonde flapped a hand and sighed again in a put upon manner.

“I haven't decided, I know I'm good enough to make it, but it would be nice to have a guarantee.”

That was a bit of a surprise, maybe there was help for Malfoy yet.

“For what it's worth, I believe it would be better to make it on your own merit.” Harry reasoned, “Otherwise, what's to stop some other wealthy Slytherin from doing just the same. You should give a reason beyond money for why they should keep you.”

Malfoy seemed to think it over as they walked down to the center of the pitch, each holding one end of a large chest.

“You may be right.” Shocking.

Malfoy looked at Jax, who was currently escaping any chance of being forced into the air by slithering off into the grass.

“Is he not coming?”

“Jax doesn't like flying, he much prefers the Knight Bus.”

Malfoy looked flabbergasted that _anyone_ would want to ride in that contraption, Harry privately agreed.

“Alright, well how about first to 100? Then maybe a Seeker off?”

“Sounds good.” Harry had never played, but he enjoyed watching the games at Hogwarts, and the flying lessons had been amusing if a bit slow after that first one.

They mounted their brooms and pushed off the ground.

Oh yeah, this was a much better broom than the school option. Harry shot so fast into the air that he nearly lost hold of the handle in surprise. He laughed, unable to keep the exalted shout in, turning a few tight loops before leveling out in front of an equally grinning Malfoy.

“You ready, Potter?” He tossed the quaffle from one hand to the other.

Harry just nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline as Malfoy threw the ball high up between them.

Harry shot straight up, managing to snatch it an instant before the other boy and tucked it under his arm, making for the far goal a full speed.

He made the point but Malfoy grabbed the ball as it was falling and it was Harry’s turn to chase. The wind whipped his hair into even more of a mess and Harry got the feeling his robes would need a thorough cleaning when the day was through. It was worth it though, because for every moment Harry was up there flying, he was not thinking of anything else. It was exhilarating and freeing and he did not even care that Malfoy won the point game in the end.

They took a short break to drink some cold lemonade brought out by yet another house elf. Jax was sunning himself in the grass and refused to be moved, so Malfoy had to kneel down (no doubt staining his fancy robes that they shouldn't have been flying in, in the first place) to pet him. Harry rolled his eyes at the serpent behind the boy's back, getting a wink in return.

Then they were back in the air, where Malfoy released the tiny fluttering snitch. It glittered in the bright sunlight before quickly darting out of sight. Harry took the opportunity to really see what he could pull off with the Nimbus. How fast he could push it and just how tight he could make the turns. At one point they were racing along the perimeter of the pitch, neck and neck just to see who could push the other to go faster still.

It ended with Harry spotting the snitch hovering just above the grass and turning into a sudden dive. The game of chicken ended with Malfoy pulling up first and Harry catching the little ball with only a split second left to pull up.

“You’re bloody insane, Potter!” Malfoy cried from his place ten feet above him, he was grinning though.

“Best two out of three?”

“You're on.”

And they were off again.

By the time they finally called it quits, Harry had caught the snitch six times and Malfoy twice. Although if he was being completely honest, Harry had let the other win those couple times, not wanting him to get all petulant about losing so many rounds in a row.

As the were stowing the gear, Malfoy took a deep breath and forced out a rushed sentence.

“You’re really good, you should be trying out for Seeker, not me.”

Harry blinked, startled. It must have taken a lot for Draco to say that, knowing how much he wanted to play.

“I don't think I want to join the team though.” Harry told him, truthfully. “I like flying, but I'm too busy with other things to add practices and games to my schedule.”

There was too much going on in his head to add the stress of joining the House team. Maybe in a couple years, if another spot opened up and he was in a better position to do it.

Draco eyed him, as if he both wanted to believe him and didn't think it possible someone would not want to be on the team if they could.

“Really?”

“Yes, Draco. Really and truly. You should go for it, on your own merit.” 

The other boy grinned, looking like a regular kid with messy windswept hair and wrinkled clothes. Not some pampered little boy trying too hard to be just like his father. It was a good look for him, and Harry hoped he could bring more of the real Draco out in the future.

“Cheers, Harry.”

They made their way back to the manor, Jax riding on Harry’s shoulders once more, and hissing about the butterfly he'd almost caught but had fluttered away like a coward.

Harry gave the snake a conciliatory pat on the head and pointedly did not snort.

“Can I use the loo?” He asked Draco, as they made it back into the house proper.

The other boy nodded and led the way, already back to his prim and proper self, despite his still disheveled appearance.

“Right through here.” They stopped outside one of a number of doors lining a hallway, Malfoy pointed down towards the end to an ornately decorated door. “I'm going to go freshen up in my room, come meet me there when you've finished.”

Harry agreed and went to relive his complaining bladder, they had been flying longer than he'd realized and he really needed to go.

It was as he was debating whether he was allowed to use the little shell shaped soaps piled in a dish by the sink that the house elf appeared with a crack right next to him.

“Mr. Harry Potter is in danger!”

Harry jumped back, hand shooting to his pocket and pulling out his wand, eyes trying to both stay on the crazy looking elf and dart around the bathroom looking for hazards among the tastefully matched towels and toiletries.

Jax was hissing expletives at the elf and tensing up as if ready to strike.

“What danger? Where?”

“At Hogwarts Mr. Harry Potter, you will be in grave danger if you return there this year!”

“ _Hog--_ so there's no danger here? Now?” He asked the elf, who had exceptionally protuberant eyes and a dingy pillowcase. There was a bandage on one of his floppy ears and he was hopping from foot to foot as if unable to keep still.

“No... not _right_ now, Mr. Harry Potter.” The elf admitted slowly, and Harry lowered his wand but did not pocket it; hissing at Jax to stand down. 

The snake did so reluctantly but continued to glare purple daggers at the nervous elf.

“ What sort of danger? And who are you? Do you work for the Malfoys?” It seemed unlikely a strange elf would break into such a heavily warded manor, just to warn Harry of a possible danger, there were much easier us to go about something like that.

Instead of answering, the elf stomped on his own foot.

“Dobby is not supposed to be speaking of it, Mr. Harry Potter, or else he must be punishing himself.”

“Don't do that!” Harry nearly shouted, before catching himself and continuing in a quieter voice. “We won't speak okay? You can just nod or shake your head, and then you won't be breaking the order, agreed?”

Harry didn't want this strange elf hurting himself, but he also needed to know about the danger. He did not want another year like the last one. Dobby hesitated before nodding slowly.

“You work for the Malfoys?” A nod.

“There is a danger at Hogwarts now?” A shake.

“There will be one?” Nod.

“A person?” Shake. Nod. Shake.

“People? A plot?” A frantic nod. 

“Am I the target?” The elf hesitated, before slowly shaking his head.

Harry let out a breath, at least there was that.

“So there's a plot to bring some sort of danger to the school, but I'm not the direct focus. Why are you telling me this, instead of someone who can actually help?”

“Because yous is being the great Harry Potter! Dobby is not wanting yous to be hurt.”

Harry blinked at the pleading elf, unsure how to react to such a statement.

“Okay.” He said eventually, just to placate the elf. “I won't go back.”

It was a lie, but judging from what he'd seen of Dobby so far, he doubted the elf would take the truth well. He would rather extract himself from the situation with minimal damage to both of them, also he'd been in this bathroom far longer than he meant to and Draco was probably wondering where he was.

“Oh Dobby is glad to hear it, Mr. Harry Potter!”

“Right. Well, I need to be going now...” And he sidled out of the bathroom and away from the crazy elf.

Draco did not question his extended trip to the loo, probably because the boy spent so long primping himself.

Draco’s room was larger than the Slytherin common room and decorated with Quidditch posters and expensive looking toys all over the space. Harry spotted a stuffed dragon on a high shelf and held in a smirk at the sight.

He was still unnerved by his encounter with Dobby and not really feeling up to listening to the other boy brag about all his fancy things. Luckily Draco seemed content to just lead them back through the maze of hallways to where the adults were still visiting in the Ivory Room. 

Draco had changed out of his rumpled clothing into fresh robes and recombed his hair, but it was still obvious from Harry’s state what they had been up to.

“Ah, Draco, darling, there you are.” Lady Malfoy greeted them, giving her son an indulgent smile. “Did you boys have fun flying?”

“Yes, mother.” The blonde said with a smile, settling down in the small space left between his parents on the lounge.

Harry was surprised to notice Lord Malfoy did not so much as shift an inch to make more room, as if he actually enjoyed being close to his family. It was an odd notion, and not one he expected to see from the stern looking man. Lady Malfoy ran an absent hand over Draco’s hair, and Harry felt a tightness in his chest.

Snape stood from his seat, tugging his robes straight.

“It's getting late, we should be heading back.”

Harry was relieved he hadn't needed to ask. He gave the Malfoys a stiff bow, all the fun of flying having deserted him.

“Thank you for the invitation, Lord and Lady Malfoy, it was an honor visiting your lovely home.”

“Thank you, darling, you are of course welcome back any time. I'm sure Draco would be thrilled to have a new friend to practice his flying with.” Lady Malfoy replied, and Harry thought she probably meant it too.

Draco at least was nodding excitedly, “Yes, you must come back. Its been a dreadfully boring summer so far.”

“Alright.” Harry allowed, seeing no way around it.

Snape saved him from having to make any concrete plans by insisting that they really must get going, he had a delicate potion brewing that needed tending to.

It was a lie, but the Malfoys did not need to know that.

A house elf escorted them to the main door, thankfully not Dobby, and one long walk down the drive later they were through the ethereal gates and back at Spinner’s End.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus Snape was feeling disconcertingly unsettled in his own home. A sensation he had not experienced in well over a decade. Not since he had gained possession of the place after his bastard of a father had finally done the world a favor and decided to shuffle off this mortal coil at long last. Severus had spent a good amount of time trying to erase any trace of the man from the premises, had even contemplated attempting to sell the alcohol and smoke soaked heap; but there had been a war on and more important things to do. Then he was spending the majority of his year at the school, and it seemed not worth the effort to rid himself of the property.

So he ignored the shadow of his father that lurked in the darker corners and went about his days as if he did not have vivid memories of drunken rants and deep brusings. They were old things, unimportant in the overall path his life and choices had taken him down. Far worse things had happened outside the walls of Spinner’s End then had happened in them. It was a tale he told himself for years until it became more truth to him than not.

Looking back, past all the black anger that had suffused his teenage years and the amaranthine grief that followed quickly on its heels, Severus knew that the dingy little house was just that. A physical location. Not anything that could hold sway over his emotions or actions.

It was a place to lay his head in the summer months. A place to grow plants for brewing. A place to escape the majority of society for a precious few moments of solitude.

It was _not_ a home. Severus doubted it had ever been one. At least, not since he himself was conceived. Perhaps his mother had been happy there once, hiding away her true nature. Severus had never had the nerve to ask, until it had been too late by far.

So it had gone, year after year. He would come to this place, alone. He would spend his off time exploring his own interests, alone. And he would be content that it was so.

Severus had grown used to the solitary routine his life had formed around him. He did not wish to change it. It was a reliable thing, and even if he could not truly admit to it making him _happy_ ; Severus was at the very least _not_ miserable. The same could not be said about a vast number of others. Many of whom never even got the opportunity to _try_. A fact that did much in the way of assuaging the creeping loneliness that sometimes plagued him when he was not vigilant in controlling his more melancholic wandering thoughts.

And then had come the boy.

It was off-putting, how so quiet and withdrawn a child could completely disrupt the calm, isolated bubble Severus had worked so hard to construct around himself.

He had found himself waking early every morning to prepare a meal that Severus usually skipped over entirely whilst on leave from teaching. He made enough for the both of them, realizing that as awkward as it was to eat in silence across from each other at the small round table (that had to be older than _he_ was), Severus much prefered the peace of mind it gave him to know the boy was eating.

That Severus, as stern and irascible as he tended to be, would not deny such a thing to a _child_. Not even one spawned by James Potter.

Although, Severus could not help but admit to himself, Harry was about as similar to his father as a thestral to a pegasus.

And so he had been forced to establish new routines, and to navigate the minefield that was the boy’s varied issues.

He let Potter assist him in whatever task needed doing if the boy wished to. Made it _very_ clear that he did not expect the sort of forced labor that vile Petunia had foisted upon him. It had been a somewhat rocky start, both of them wary and unsure quite how to proceed.

Severus spent far too much time guessing at the correct course and hoping it turned out for the best then he was entirely comfortable with. He liked being in control of any given situation, knowing what sort of variables were likely to be thrown his way. So that he might plan and act accordingly. It worked for him in most instances, but Severus had never thought he’d be in this particular one during his lifetime.

Being a guardian over his House and its slew of students was vastly different than being set to care from one, decidedly troubled, individual.

The best course of action he was able to settle on was to take things as they came. Not something Severus was terribly prone to doing, but also not unheard of. The Occlumency lessons helped. It gave them both a goal to reach for and would serve as a valuable skill for the boy to have. Despite the slow start, Severus truly believed Potter would have a serviceable baseline in mind magic by the end of the summer.

Potter had done remarkably well at keeping his emotions and reactions in check while at Malfoy Manor. Enough so to circumvent a few of the leading questions Narcissa was prone to asking. Which while good for the boy, meant that Severus had spent much of the afternoon dodging questions of his own from the couple. It was an old game, one he was used to playing and usually found enjoyment in. But something about the nature and subject of the inquiry had Severus bristling internally far more than was usually when engaging Lucius in such twisting wordplays.

He’d managed to bury the aberrant thoughts behind a wall of Occlumency with practiced ease, but the fact of their existence left him unbalanced nonetheless.

And then there was Jacobi.

As much as Severus could see how the apothecary helped in calming the child, he could not help but wish it did not come with such _boisterous_ attachments.

That first afternoon he had brought Potter to the shop, not quite sure what to expect, he grudgingly admitted (in the very dark recesses of his mind) that the boy was obviously comfortable there. Given the evidence that he allowed Jacobi such freedoms as hair-ruffling and _hugs_ without so much as a flinch. That Jacobi did not hesitate in handling the boy’s familiar, a privilege Severus knew few were granted.

All empirical evidence aside, Severus had still questioned the man when Potter had taken his leave. Jacobi had, infuriatingly enough, completely refused to be intimidated. Not something Severus was used to experiencing and lent the man a grudging modicum of respect. Jacobi _had_ dropped the playful banter without much hassle, sensing the seriousness of the situation, thank Merlin. And Severus was able to establish that although the man knew something had not been completely right with the boy’s home life, he did not in fact have any sort of clue as to how bad it actually was. So Severus would let his relative inaction on that front slide for now, and let Potter continue to frequent the shop.

At least the boy had been clever enough to begin under a false identity, not many nine year olds were that circumspect.

Severus would just have to resign himself to enduring Jacobi’s... eccentricities.

At Spinner’s End, he struggled not to make mention when he found a window or floorboards, or the walls themselves, become suddenly much cleaner than they had once been. He never caught the boy out again, scrubbing his hands to the bone. But nevertheless, little by little, the dingy innards of the house had begun to shine again. Or perhaps for the first time, since Severus could not bring to mind a single instance when the walls of the upper hall had not been a depressing shade of gray.

He knew the boy was doing it out of excess energy, not as a slight against Severus’ own habitual tendencies, but it still left a foul taste in the back of his mouth. He doubted very much that talking with Potter about it would go well at all. The child had an annoying tendency to jump to the worst of conclusions, and Severus sometimes struggled to articulate exactly what he meant without resorting to dry sarcasm; and so they were at a bit of an impasse.

As July rolled in, bringing with it more heat and sun than was strictly necessary, Severus noticed Potter was beginning to settle somewhat into his place at Spinner’s End. A quick peek into his room while the boy was at the apothecary showed he had placed a number of books upon the shelves, along with a few trinkets. There were more things on the desk and a few clothes hung up in the closet. It was still a very sparse looking space, but no longer looked as if no one resided within. Severus carefully closed the door behind him as he left; contemplating the odd mix of contentment and wrong-footedness swirling in his gut.

He spent the rest of the afternoon down in his lab, working on a complex and delicate potion that required his full attention.

~~~~~~~>

It was in the third week of July when Harry finally managed to gain the correct state of hazy calm described in the book. It was a subtle but recognizable difference between the weird meditation/zone out he’d been doing before. This time, when Snape had risen and walked about the room, Harry had been fully aware of it. His eyes tracking the movement as his thoughts stayed just where they’d been, under a foggy emptiness that wasn’t really empty at all.

“Excellent, Mr. Potter.” Snape murmured, retaking his seat, “I do believe you are ready to begin the next stage in the lessons.” 

Harry nodded, knowing he was excited but the fog in his brain suppressing the emotion to its bare essence. It was an oddly detached sensation, like reading about somebody else feeling what you should be.

Snape walked him through coming back out of the haze, a process that took only a few moments, but felt like much longer.

“Soon, you will be able to achieve that same state in a swift and precise manner. It is essential to hone the skill, or it will be of very little use to you. Often you may find yourself in a situation where you need to calm your thoughts quickly in order to not become overwhelmed by emotion or too much differing input.”

“Like if I have another panic attack?” Harry had only been thinking about getting a good night sleep, but if this could help his waking mind as well...

“Precisely so.” Snape nodded to him, sparing a rare smile. “Now that you have touched upon the first step, it will become much easier to reach each time. Eventually, you will not even need the aid of the music, and be able to drop into the state at a moment’s notice.”

“So, what’s next? Organizing my thoughts, right?”

“Correct.” Snape leaned back in his chair, looking contemplative for a moment before speaking. “You must choose a way in which to represent your thoughts. A multitude of boxes, a series of doors, something individualized enough for you to conceptualize in distinctly differing ways. This door has brass hinges, that box blue stripes.”

Harry thought about it, eyes roaming the room and its towing, overstuffed shelves.

“Can it be a library? Each book a separate thought?”

Snape nodded, “A good choice, with endless potential for organizing and rearranging in whatever way you see fit. Always something to look for when creating the space and protecting it from intruders, make it convoluted enough and someone that manages to get past your first layer of defense could find themselves wandering the stacks endlessly.”

Harry hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. And gave him a measure of comfort to know he would be making it that much more difficult to mess with his head; then a thought occurred to him.

“Would I be able to label these books in Parseltongue? So even if someone managed to find the correct one, they wouldn’t even know it?”

Snape gave him a proud look and another, fuller, smile; prompting Harry to flush at the warmth it caused him.

“ _Very_ clever, Mr. Potter, I think that to be an excellent idea.”

Harry ducked his head, embarrassed at so blatant a compliment, but pleased nonetheless.

They spent the next few hours going over the process of turning his thoughts into amalgamations of books and how he should try and structure his imaginary library. It would take a long time to before everything was settled, but Harry was happy to have progressed so far.

That night he penned a letter to Blaise, not explicitly mentioning the breakthrough but speaking in a roundabout way that got the message across all the same. He also asked after the other boy, his last letter having been a little worrying. Blaise apparently did not care for his mother’s new _amante_ and the feelings were mutual. Coupled with his friend’s trouble dealing with the aftermath of Quirrel, it had not been a very pleasant summer for him at all.

Harry wished he could go and visit the other boy, but doubted Snape would allow so far an excursion when he barely tolerated Harry going to the apothecary several times a week.

The summer was nearly halfway over, perhaps they could meet up at Diagon when their letters arrived? Or would Blaise rather buy his things at the Italian equivalent? Which got Harry to wondering how many hidden pockets of magic were scattered around the world. It sounded like it might be fun to visit them, someday.

He ended adding a postscript to the letter, seeing if Blaise wanted to meet up to get their school things, he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Jax had slithered over while he was signing the letter and insisted on putting his mark down as well, which ended in a blotchy squiggle and Harry having to bring the serpent into the bathroom to wash the ink from his tail.

~~~~~~~>

He had told Snape about the crazy house elf, just in case he was not as mad as he appeared. The man had listened and promised to make inquiries, seeming to take the threat seriously, which Harry was mildly surprised by; but not about to question.

If something were to happen at Hogwarts, Harry would at least have made the effort to try and inform someone. He did not know how he would be able to handle the guilt otherwise.

The night before his twelfth birthday, Harry did not sleep. Instead staying up with Jax to watch the hands of the clock mounted above his desk slowly tick towards midnight. He’d found the clock in a box shoved into the very back of his closet, it had probably been overlooked when Snape was clearing out the room.

Inside had also been a small triangular flag in Slytherin colors, with the image of a silver snake coiled on the wider end. A few faded shirts with band names splashed across the fronts. A bag of slightly battered Gobstones. And a dark-washed denim jacket that was a bit frayed around the edges but still serviceable. It was far too long in the arms, when Harry had tried it on, nearly engulfing his entire hands; but he figured he might grow into it eventually and had stashed it away in his trunk along with the shirts. He didn’t quite know why he had commandeered the jacket, he had more than enough money to buy a new one if he wanted, it had been impulsive.

Snape had obviously forgotten about the box, or he would have removed it along with everything else before handing over the room to Harry. So it wasn’t like he was _stealing_ it. He just liked the look of it, that was all.

To settle the simmering guilt, he had brought the bag of Gobstones down to Snape. Who had accepted them with an odd look on his face, like something between nostalgia and grief.

Harry wanted to ask, but didn’t think it appropriate. Thankfully, the man offered up an answer anyway.

“These were my mother’s.” He said, weighing the bag in one hand, mouth twisted down at the corner. “She gave them to me when I started Hogwarts, I’d forgotten about them.”

He eyed Harry, who had the strong urge to shuffle his feet.

Snape had given Harry a sharp nod and disappeared the bag into a pocket. It had been an awkward exchange, but Harry felt better for it.

He’d kept the clothes though.

As the clock above the desk finally ticked over to midnight, there was a rapping on his window.

Harry jumped at the noise, not having noticed the owl. Jax hissed at the bird as Harry opened the window, the owl just hooted snootily and turned its beak up at the serpent.

There was a package tied to its feet that Harry was quick to undo. The address was in Millicent’s squarish handwriting and Harry flushed with guilt at the realization that he had not written her once over the summer. The owl ruffled its feathers huffily and Harry thanked it for the delivery, going over to his trunk and digging out a bit of chicken he had stashed away. It seemed to appease the bird, who hooted softly before taking off back into the night.

“ _Is it gone?_ ” Jax hissed from his hiding spot under the covers, Harry rolled his eyes.

“ _Yes, you can come out now._ ”

He sat on the bed with the package, unsure what to make of it. He had very little experience with presents, and birthday ones doubly so.

Jax poked his head out and flicked a purple tongue at the box.

“ _It smells magical. Who's it from_?”

“ _Millicent._ ”

“ _Oooh, is it more rocks?_ ”

Harry huffed out a laugh as his snake’s sudden excitement and finally went about opening the package.

Inside was a letter, a small box of chocolate frogs, and a couple old books on rare potions that looked equal parts interesting and incomprehensible in their advancement.

The letter was short, as he would expect from the girl, and thankfully made no mention of displeasure at being ignored all summer. Instead she wished Harry a happy birthday, spoke a bit about Maximus, and mentioned she’d found the books in her family's library and thought Harry would enjoy them. She did not mention anything about what had happened at school, and Harry hoped she wasn’t too freaked out.

He set the box aside and went back to the desk, intent on writing a thank you note, when another owl alighted on the sill. This one Harry recognized as Malfoy’s, and he dug out another treat for him. Jax was grumbling curses from across the room, which the owl pointedly ignored. Harry was quick about unfastening the package it carried, starting to feel quite overwhelmed at all the unexpected attention.

Malfoy had sent him a book on Quidditch and a jumper so soft it had to be real cashmere, there was also the expected overlarge box of Ice Mice for Jax. He did not even get to read the letter that accompanied the box before he was startled by yet another owl.

This one was from Longbottom, oddly enough, and contained yet more books and more of the same type of homemade biscuits he’d sent Harry at Christmas.

Harry just sat there for a long while. Overcome with an emotion he did not know quite how to process.

Presents. Birthday presents.

He took a deep breath, trying to settle the storm of conflicting thoughts and feelings swirling around in him. He gathered the pile of gifts and set them out across the bed. There was a warmth welling up in him that, for once, he tried not to suppress as it battled the unease. This was a normal thing that happened to other children. They got presents on their birthdays. Harry should not let the unexpectedness of it overwhelm him so much.

Jax slithered over the pile of books and things, stretching up in an obvious way that had Harry scooping the serpent into his arms without thought.

“ _What’s wrong?_ ” The snake hissed, pressing his wedge of a head against Harry’s temple.

“ _I don’t know._ ” He admitted truthfully, “ _I should be happy, people are supposed to like getting things on their birthdays..._ ”

And he _was_ , it was just accompanied but an unpleasant sense of _wrongness_. Harry Potter was not the sort of boy you gave things to. Harry Potter was someone you took things from or mocked about not having things.

He took a deep breath, trying to reach that calm space in his mind that they had been working so hard to establish. It was difficult without any music and his heightened emotional state, but Harry pushed through and eventually was able to look in on himself with a more rational and logical mindset. He shoved aside the instinctual guilt at being given something he did not deserve and examined _why_ that had been the response. Unsurprisingly it led back to the Dursleys and their treatment of him. He could see the conditioning for what it was and pushed that aside as well.

When he came back to himself, Harry was seated on the floor next to the bed, Jax a warm weight in his lap. He stroked the serpent absently, a bubbling of impotent anger towards his relatives simmered in the back of his mind. It wasn't fair that they were still able to affect him so, even after he’d severed ties as much as it was possible to do so.

Instead of dwelling on the unnecessary guilt and reasonable anger, Harry decided to focus on the budding happiness and gratitude he felt underneath it all. Even if he could not completely dismiss the unwanted emotions, Harry did have the power to ignore the ones he knew to be useless. So he climbed back to his feet and went to the desk to pen out thank you letters to read the missives that he’d not had a chance to before the odd panic had tried to set in.

Malfoy’s was about as pompous as one would expect, and also included an invitation to come flying sometime in the next week. Harry found that accepting it helped in dissolving some of that lingering guilt, making it feel like more of an exchange. Besides, he had enjoyed flying, even if he’d been ambushed by a crazed elf afterward.

Longbottom’s letter was much more affable and filled with anecdotes about his summer and the plants he was caring for. Asking after Harry, wishing him a happy birthday and hoping his summer was going well also.

It all rang of true honesty and well wishing, and Harry got the impression that Longbottom was unaware that Harry had almost been foisted upon his family by Dumbledore. That was good, he did not want to make the other boy feel as if there were something wrong with _him_ , so much as Harry really had not wanted to be stuck under an unknown thumb. Or given precedence to the Headmaster that he would be able to dictate Harry’s life more than he already had. Longbottom was a good sort, when he wasn’t melting cauldrons left and right.

After writing a reply, Harry cleared away the mess that engulfed his bed. Debating for a moment before settling his new books onto a shelf instead of into his trunk. It was nice to have them on display, and he figured seeing them every day would help him feel he deserved the kindness.

Afterwards he and Jax lay back down for a couple restless hours of sleep. The Occlumency was starting to work a little, if he managed to clear his mind before falling asleep; resulting in hazy unknown terrors rather than full blown cinematics. But he was still not skilled enough to do so reliably without aid of music. And he had yet to finish organizing his thoughts into any semblance of order, but there had been progress nonetheless.

When before he would have given up on the thought of sleep completely, now Harry could at least count on gaining a couple hours before his usual wake up time.

The warm weight of Jax against his sternum was a comfort that helped to ease him into rest much faster than he’d thought possible.

In the morning, Harry came down to find another package sitting in front of the fireplace, its edging slightly scorched. Harry found himself more able to smile and accept that it really was for him than he had been last night, more prepared to push away the misplaced guilt. Seeing Blaise’s slanted writing filled him with a warmth that overid any of the other ingrained responses that tried to surface.

The package contained a variety of Italian pastries, along with a delicate silver chain of such fine make that Harry hesitated even touching it. Jax nosed at it thoughtfully, hissing that it smelt of warm magic.

The letter included in the package was as long and convoluted as usual, though did provide an explanation of the necklace. Apparently it was supposed to help with calming your dreams and ensuring restful sleep. Harry felt a burst of affection for his friend, the gift was so thoughtful. When Harry clasped it around his neck, he immediately felt the warm hum of magic coming from it. Not an overwhelming sensation, but more like what he imagined a comforting hand brushing through his hair before bed might feel like.

He carefully removed the chain after a moment, replacing it in the darkly lacquered box it had come in. He would definitely be using it. Although he wondered if it might interfere with his lessons, Snape _had_ warned about employing shortcuts and how they were a detriment in the end. But the necklace wasn’t really about his Occlumency, it was more in line with the Dreamless Sleep, he’d ask in any case.

For now, Harry settled into an armchair with one of the thick books Millicent had sent him. It was old, and flipping through it showed a variety of both useful potions and horrifying poisons. It was a fascinating thing to look through, although he doubted he'd be able to attempt one any time soon. It was interesting to see which brews shared common ingredients but varied so wildly in the end results.

By the time Snape descends the stairs, Harry had already returned the book (and its brother) to his trunk, unsure if the Potion Master would approve of him having such advanced (and arguably Dark) material out in the open. He was lying with Jax in front of the record player, listening to the first Thestral Sight album play softly through the speakers. Snape pauses on his way to presumably making his morning tea and raised an eyebrow at them.

Harry offered up the box of pastries, “Want one? Blaise sent them.”

Surprisingly enough, Snape took a cannoli with little fuss.

“What would you prefer for breakfast?” The man asked, after taking a delicate bite.

Harry shrugged, he didn’t care. It was odd that Snape was even asking, he usually just started making something.

“Omelettes I guess, I’m not fussed.”

“Very well.” And with that, he left with a flourish of terry cloth into the kitchen. Harry wondered if the man had ever made a simple exit, or if the dramatic was so infused into his bones at this point that to do otherwise would be painful.

It was an amusing thought that he shared with Jax, which earned a series of hissing snakey giggles.

He broke off a piece of sweet roll for the snake before closing up the box and bringing it upstairs to store in his trunk so the treats wouldn’t go stale.

While he was there he grabbed the letters he’d written and supplies to pen a new one for Blaise. He spent the time it took Snape to make breakfast writing to his friend, confirming the time he’d suggested they meet up to get their school things, and listening to more music. 

It had taken a while to get used to the new morning routine, he and Snape still mostly just circled each other in the house. Which Harry could live with. It was better than outright hostility. Although sometimes he wished the man would let him know how far Harry could push that cleaning rule before something happened.

He just got restless sometimes and needed to do something with his hands. So he would scrub at the walls or windows or what have you when Snape was busy doing other things. The Potion Master never mentioned it, if he noticed, so Harry kept on in little bursts of cleaning. He never went as all out as he had with the kitchen, which was probably a big factor in why Snape was allowing him to continue. Either way, some direction would be nice. He was a little afraid to bring it up himself, in case it made things worse than the unspoken agreement they had going on now.

He had just sent the letter to Blaise through the Floo when Snape called him into the kitchen. He tucked the other ones into his pocket, he’d use Mr. Jacobi’s owl to send them out later. Harry wasn’t sure of the protocol on domestic letters. He figured because the packages had arrived by owl, he should send the replies back in the same manner.

Harry settled in his usual place at the table and Snape set a steaming plate in front of him. It smelled deliciously of mushrooms and hot peppers. Harry couldn’t hold back a pleased grin.

“Thank you, sir.” 

Snape spared him a brief nod before cutting into his own (pepperless) meal. Harry turned to his own food in an effort to ignore the warm feeling that tired to rise up in him just because Snape had remembered how he liked his food spicy. He would just chalk it up to another unexpected birthday surprise, even though he highly doubted the man meant it as such. Harry didn’t think he even knew it was his birthday, and Harry wasn’t about to bring it up. He’d just happily eat his food and carry on with the day as normal. It was already looking to be one of the best birthdays he’d ever had.

After breakfast, Snape shooed him away from the kitchen and Harry let him without much protest. Privately thinking it a treat for himself, he’d help with cleanup for dinner instead.

The lesson that morning went well, Harry was making good progress in reaching that clear state much quicker, and then once there it was getting easier to build up his thought library. He was looking forward to a time when he could do so at a moment's notice, it had taken a long while to try and calm himself the night before.

Before leaving for the apothecary, Snape stopped him at the door.

“A moment, Mr. Potter.”

Harry wracked his brains for something he might have forgotten to do as he watched Snape pull a small box from his robe pocket. It was plainly wrapped and about the size of his palm.

Harry stared as the man held it out, confused.

“What’s this?” He asked, not taking it.

Snape huffed a breath and held it out further.

“I believe it customary to give gifts to one on their birthday.” Was the dry reply. 

Harry stared some more.

“You didn’t have--”

Snape rolled his eyes and set the box in Harry’s hands when it looked like he wasn’t about to take it himself.

“Think of it as a tool for Occlumency, if it makes you feel better, I care not. I will see you in the afternoon, Mr. Potter.” And with that he left with a purposeful stride back towards the laboratory entrance.

Harry stood in the entryway for a full minute, just clutching the gift and staring after the Potion Master. It was Jax reaching down to nose at the brown paper that finally snapped him out of the daze.

He carefully undid the precise wrapping job, careful not to tear the paper. Inside was a muggle portable tape player and headphones, so that Harry could listen to music whenever he wanted or needed to.

There was a hot prickling at the corners of his eyes and Harry sniffed loudly in an effort to stop the unwanted tears. His fingers tightened over the gift, as unwilling to let go now as he’d been wary of taking it in the first place.

He looked back in the direction Snape had disappeared, feeling the tremble in his bottom lip and biting it.

“Thank you.” He whispered into the empty room, voice much thicker than he’d prefer.


	6. Chapter 6

Diagon Alley was more crowded than usual when Snape escort Harry and Jax to meet with Blaise outside Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. Harry and expected a few extra shoppers, what with the Hogwarts letters being so recently sent out, but the sheer mass of people milling about was just _odd_.

Most of them seemed to be congregating towards Flourish and Blotts and Harry was silently thankful Snape had elected to Apparate them to the Alley, instead of insisting on using the Floo.

He was so busy watching the crowd, that Harry almost didn't see Blaise slink up next to him out of a passing group of giggling teenage witches.

“ _Ciao_ , Harry.” He said with a grin that briefly showed a flash of bright teeth before settling into an amused smirk, his warm eyes dancing a little.

“ _What_?” Harry asked in wary Italian, eyeing the look on the other boy's face; suspicion temporarily overriding his happiness at seeing a friend.

Blaise’s smirk grew ever so slightly and he looked to be having trouble holding in a laugh, Harry fought the urge to bristle or hunch his shoulders in.

“ _No need to look so grim,_ ” The other boy reassured him, pulling back his amusement a bit, “ _It's just that you both had identical scowls on your faces, glaring over at the crowd, it was funny._ ”

Harry rolled his eyes in lieu of blushing as Blaise turned to greet Snape properly.

“Hello, Professor, I hope your summer is going well.” 

Snape raised an eyebrow, “Mr. Zabini. It is going fine, I trust the same can be said of yours?”

Blaise gave a little nod. He was dressed in impeccably tailored robes that accentuated just how much he had grown in the couple months they’d been apart. Harry tried not to scowl at the fact that he now just barely reached the other boy’s shoulder.

“My mother sends her regards and regrets that she was unable to accompany me today, there was some urgent business that needed taking care of.”

Snape waved a dismissive hand, “No matter, shall we proceed? I do not wish to spend more time than is necessary on such a crowded day.” He scowled back over the masses in disapproval, no doubt hoping to avoid running into too many students before the school year had even started.

“You don’t have to come with us.” Harry spoke up, feeling a creeping guilt at taking time out of Snape’s day that he could otherwise be spending on something far less tedious than minding a couple twelve year olds shopping for new quills. “I did all my first year buying myself, I don’t mind.”

Snape seemed to consider the idea for a moment before ultimately dismissing it.

“Perhaps if it were not such a busy day.” He said, black eyes sweeping over the milling people with suspicion, “I am in need of a few things myself, in any case. Let us begin.”

Jax, tired of being ignored, had been slowly stretching himself through the open air between Harry and Blaise, apparently seeing the taller boy as a much prefered vantage point. Blaise obliged him with a pleased look that he quickly hid under his usual smirk, settling the serpent across his own shoulders like a fancy accessory. Harry snorted softly at the smug look on his snake’s face and they all started down the street, decidedly _away_ from the bookshop. Hopefully everything would have died down a bit by the time they got their other things.

As they made their way (slowly, against the flow of foot traffic) up the Alley, Harry and Blaise chatted about their summers. Well, Blaise talked and Harry mostly just listened. He'd been worried about his friend, and was happy to see that he was mostly alright; given the circumstances. Although the other boy was much better at hiding his emotions away than Harry was, he believed they were close enough now that he'd be able to tell if something were deeply amiss.

Given that Blaise had already written to him of his troubles, Harry did not see a reason for his friend to hold back now.

Snape followed behind them like a tall, lurking shadow; something Harry found more comforting than not; surprisingly.

They made quick work of replenishing their stationery supplies at Scribbulus, with Snape buying what looked to be red ink by the gallon. The shop clerk seemed unsurprised by this and rang them up without a blink. 

Not having grown as much as he'd wish, Harry had no need to visit Madam Malkin’s next door. Blaise had turned his nose up a bit at the shop, which Harry found more amusing than anything; he and Malfoy were so picky about their clothes.

Harry remembered first meeting the blonde last summer while they both got fitted for Hogwarts uniforms. He shared the story with Blaise, who laughed quietly, no doubt preparing a few biting words to tease Malfoy with.

They also skipped over Slug and Jiggers, Harry using the excuse that he wanted to wait until it was closer to school starting to refresh his things. It was true enough, he just chose not to mention that he also would be buying them from a completely different apothecary; one that Harry _worked_ at. It was not something he felt like discussing, and as much as Harry liked Blaise, he did not think the other boy would really understand the why of it.

They did stop into a shop that specialized in quills of all kinds. Ones that ranged from plain black to elegant eagle owl and flamboyantly dyed ostrich so fluffy Harry wondered how anyone could see what they were writing.

There were self-inking quills, and ones that were meant to check your spelling, along with a few violently green ones that you could apparently dictate to (although there was a warning attached that stated they were not liable for any embellishments made whilst using).

Harry picked up a pen knife for sharpening, something he had been in sore need of the previous year, and a few plain replacement quills. He did indulge a little and buy one of the sleek raven feather ones that were wickedly sharp and such a deep black it almost seemed to swallow the light around it.

Blaise spent a good few minutes deliberating between a warmly brown quill and one tipped in shining silver before shrugging and buying both.

They stopped at a tea shop for lunch, in the hopes that the crowd in and around the bookstore would lessen by the time they finished their sandwiches. But, Harry reflected, as they made their way back down the street an hour later, it had been a vain hope.

Jax had migrated over to Harry again as they had eaten, so as to more easily steal food, the sneak. He hissed grumpily as they all tried to squeeze through the crowd and into the store.

“ _Why are there so many people_?”

“ _I don't know._ ” Harry looked around, trying to find a reason for the gathering of what looked to be every last middle-aged witch in Britain, as Jax wriggled around to disappear under his robes.

After much ducking and standing on tip-toes, he finally spotted a banner over the doors that stated:

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_  
will be signing copies of his autobiography  
MAGICAL ME  
today 12:30 to 4:30 

“Who's Gilderoy Lockhart?” Harry muttered to Blaise next to him, getting an eye roll in return.

“Some famous git, goes around doing heroic things and writes books about how great he is for doing so. Although I really doubt he's ever done a single thing he claims.” That drew a look of ire from the surrounding witches, but Blaise seemed unaffected by their burning gazes.

“He is also, regrettably, Hogwart’s newest Defense professor.” Snape told them in a low voice, so that the huffy women surrounding them could not hear.

Blaise let out a pained noise, covering half his face with a hand. Snape looked like he'd very much like to join in the sentiment.

“Let's just try and get our books quick then, yeah?” Harry suggested, digging the list from his pocket while trying not to accidentally elbow anyone in the gut.

“Agreed.”

And with that, Snape glared them a path through to the inside of the store. The people parting for him with impressive swiftness when faced with the man's intimidating disapproval.

Harry held back an amused smirk, though Blaise felt no such qualms.

Once inside, it was a bit easier to get around. Most of the patrons had organized themselves into a more or less orderly line that weaved all around the bookstore before ending at a table manned by a grinning blonde wizard in periwinkle blue robes and a pointed hat sat at a jaunty angle on his head. Judging by the fact that he was surrounded by books covered in the same face, and grinning with far too many blindingly bright teeth, Harry would hazard a guess at him being Lockhart.

Even from as far back as they were, Harry could tell that the man's toothy smile did not reach his eyes.

They quickly grabbed what books they needed, most of them having been written by Lockhart, Harry noticed. Well, he supposed that guy had to make a living somehow. Although he wondered, flipping through the pages of _Gadding with Ghouls_ , how useful they would actually be. The thing seemed to read more like one of Millicent’s trashy adventure novels than a textbook. 

He was so focused on the book that he didn’t notice the girl until he had bumped into her and sent them both to the ground, books spilling around them into a hard-edged puddle.

“Oi!”

“I’m sorry.” Harry gasped, flushing in embarrassment. He scrambled to his feet amid the scattered books, reaching down a hand to the girl.

She was glaring up at him through a curtain of red hair reminiscent of Weasley’s, with a splash of matching freckles across her nose.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, and she finally took his hand.

“Just watch where you’re going next time.” She huffed, brushing floor dust from her slightly shabby looking robes, Harry ducked his head and tried not to fidget.

He tugged at the brim of his cap in a nervous gesture before bending down to try and separate out their various piles of books. He did not look over at Blaise, knowing the boy must be smirking again.

“Hey, Ginny, there you are--”

“We’ve been all over looking--”

“--for you, mum’s in a tizzy.”

And just like that, the girl was flanked by the Weasley twins. Who wore matching fuzzy sweaters and mischievous grins. The hair had been quite the clue, Harry thought, as he picked up the last of the errant books and held them out.

“Sorry, again. Here.” Harry mumbled, trying not to draw attention to himself and knowing it was useless all the same.

“Look who it is, Fred!”

“Blimey, George, if it isn’t Harry Potter himself. Gracing us mere mortals with his presence.”

Harry snorted as the twins made mocking bows and carried on in the same vain for far longer than strictly necessary. Although, perhaps it was less about teasing Harry and more about embarrassing their sister. Because the girl (Ginny?), had flushed as bright red as her hair and let out a high pitched squeak, dropping her books all over again.

Blaise had rejoined him at his side by that time, and Harry appreciated the reinforcements as the boy leveled an unimpressed stare at the twins.

All the ruckus had drawn the attention of the crowd, and inadvertently Lockhart himself. Who stood from his table and fairly _shouted_ across the shop, “It _can’t_ be, Harry Potter?!”

Harry felt heat crawling up his neck as all the eyes in the room focused sharply on him. Whispering broke out all around them as the man hurried from behind his table and made a beeline straight for Harry, very white teeth gleaming in a smile that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a shark.

Luckily Snape got to him first, interposing himself between Harry and the approaching man with ease.

“Ah, excuse me, my good man. If I could just--?” Lockhart began with an affably pompous air, trying to sidestep Snape.

The Potion Master just folded his arms and fixed a glare down his hooked nose at the shorter man.

Not to be dissuaded, Lockhart rose up on his toes and tried to catch a glimpse of Harry behind Snape, flashing another bright smile.

“Dear boy, if I could just have a moment? This seems a terrible waste of an opportunity. The Daily Prophet is here you know? Together, you and I would rate the front page.”

Harry, uncomfortable with the growing whispers and all the searching eyes, shook his head silently. The last thing he wanted was _more_ attention. He’d gone so long without people really recognizing him, and hated that he might now not be able to come to Diagon without being hounded at every corner.

He could feel the edges of panic seeping in, running creeping fingers up his spine.

It was getting harder to breath.

Lockhart was still blathering on. Snape was still providing a convenient shadow to hide behind.

But it wasn’t enough.

He tried to clear his thoughts, but there were too many eyes on him. Too many whispers and no music at all.

Jax pulsed against him, sensing his rising panic, but it wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, there were fingers gripping his. Tight and warm and steady.

Harry, startled, looked down to find Blaise's hand entangled with his. The contrast of darker skin against his bloodless fingers an odd enough sight to pull him away from the edge. He squeezed back and took a deeper breath than he had in the last minute.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lockhart. But we need to be going now, perhaps another time when we are both not so busy.” He offered, in as neutral a voice as he could manage.

The man seemed to temporarily deflate before bouncing right back.

“Of course, of course, so much work to be done. Autographs to sign and my adoring fans to meet and greet. Although, I’m sure you know all about that, Harry.” Lockhart’s smile grew impossibly wider and Harry was suddenly glad he hadn’t grown as much as Blaise, otherwise he might very well have tried to punch the man in the teeth; as it was, he couldn’t reach.

“Right.”

Lockhart looked to be ready to start up the conversation again, but Snape’s glower had grown to the point that even he could not ignore it any longer, and reluctantly allowed the Potion Master to shuffle them away from the crowd and towards the checkout.

The twins trailed guiltily after them, bouncing apologies all around and carrying Harry’s books for him.

“It’s fine.” He finally said, taking the things from the pouting Gryffindors, even though it wasn’t. Not really.

“I suggest you both return to your mother, Mr. and Mr. Weasley, I doubt she appreciates the amount of chaos you are causing.” Snape told them with a glare only a tenth of the strength with which he’d spared for Lockhart.

Both twins still gulped and scarpered, so it was apparently enough.

Harry and Blaise quickly paid for their things and they all made a hasty exit.

Or tried to at least, there was a bit of a fracas going on by the front doors. Harry could see Malfoy’s blonde hair amidst a sea of red and knew it couldn’t bode well.

He couldn’t really hear what was going on, but could guess well enough by the sneer on Malfoy’s face and the sheer redness building up in the youngest Weasley boy’s cheeks.

Then Lord Malfoy stepped from behind a stack of shelves and joined his son, matching sneer curling his own lip as he tapped his snake’s head cane on the wooden floor imperiously.

A man Harry vaguely recognized from that trip to the ministry earlier in the year pushed his way to the head of the group and said something cutting to Lord Malfoy. Who returned the insult without hesitation, after which everything quickly devolved into a flat out _brawl_ in the entryway.

Harry gaped as a worker tried to intervene and got a book to the face for his trouble. The Weasley twins and Ron were all chanting and cheering their father on while a slightly dumpy looking redheaded woman started shouting up a storm. Harry glanced first at Blaise, who looked more amused at the turn of events than anything, then Snape, who seemed torn between stepping in and letting the loud woman handle it.

Everything ended just as quickly as it began. The woman, whom Harry assumed to be the Weasley matriarch, had bodily hauled Mr. Weasley from the fight and started berating him in a shrill voice reminiscent of the howler everyone had heard during breakfast last year that had caused Ron Weasley to join in Granger’s study group.

Lord Malfoy was looking a little worse for wear, his fancy robes wrinkled a bit and hair all out of place, there was a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.

The man pulled himself up in a huff and swept past all the redheads, commanding that Draco follow.

“Well that was interesting.” Blaise commented dryly.

“Indeed.” Snape agreed.

Harry just wanted to finally leave.

~~~~~~~>

_Well I sit and I pray_  
_In my broken down Chevrolet_  
_While I'm singin' to myself_  
_There's got to be another way--_

Harry lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the same song over and over. He had picked up the tape when Mr. Jacobi had taken him to a surprise lunch on Harry’s birthday. When he’d learned of the walkman gift Snape had given him, they had made a stopover in muggle London to visit a music shop. It had been filled with surly teenagers and what looked to be an endless supply of music to choose from.

Harry had picked up a few things he knew he liked from listening to Snape’s collection, and a few things that just looked interesting. In the newer release section he’d grabbed a tape by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, just because he liked the name of the band. It had also had Magik in the title, so he figured it might be a sign. Listening to it later had been an...experience. Harry wasn’t sure if he liked them or not, it was weird music, Jax seemed to enjoy it though.

He’d picked up the Social Distortion tape because he’d heard a couple of the teenagers talking about it, and got curious.

The whole thing had been filled with raw emotion and a depth of feeling that called to him. One song in particular had caught his attention and he turned to it whenever the nightmares made it past his rudimentary Occlumency skills.

_Take away, take away_  
_Take away this ball and chain_  
_I'm lonely and I'm tired_  
_And I can't take any more pain--_  


____

__

It was nearing the end of summer. Hogwarts started up again in a week and Harry was both excited for it and dreading what it might bring. 

He had his dreams mostly under control, his thoughts organized in a twisting maze of a library that Harry was proud to have built up in his head. He made sure to clear his mind every night before bed and to wear the necklace Blaise had gifted him (which Snape had assured was safe to use). But sometimes the dreams still wormed their way through, like dark malicious tendrils.

They were always awful, as if they’d gained poisonous fury at being locked away and felt the need to bite as hard and fast as possible whenever they managed to sneak past his barriers.

_But wherever I have gone_  
_I was sure to find myself there_  
_You can run all your life_  
_But not go anywhere--_  


____

__

__

It had been Quirrel again, but this time he did not die when Harry melted his face. Instead laughing that crazed, high-pitched shriek and mocking him as he tried in vain to run away. His voice following him through the darkened woods, even though it had been daylight out when it had happened. The trees grabbed for him, catching on his clothes and tearing at his hair and face. He couldn’t find Jax.

The voice cried out again, asking Harry if he enjoyed murder. If he liked maiming and killing. When was he going to do it next?

There was so much anger swirling around him, so dark until it wasn’t. When the green light flooded everything.  
Harry had woke gasping, clutching tightly at his pounding head.

Jax and hissed soothing nothings at him until he calmed down enough to see straight, but there was no going to sleep after that. So he had dug out the walkman from under his pillow and switched out the tapes.

_Times are hard getting harder_  
_I'm born to lose and destined to fail--_

__

__

__

__

The song was depressing and heavy, but Harry could not stop listening to it.

It helped, in an odd way, to know that there was another person out there that struggled with something as much as Harry did. That felt helpless in the face of it but still tried to keep going, despite it all.

_Take away, take away_  
_Never to return again_  
_Take away, take away_  
_Take away this ball and chain--_  


____

____

____

____

__

__

The song reached its end and Harry pressed down on the rewind button, waited a few moments, and then hit play. He had the timing down pretty well after doing the same thing over and over for the past two hours.

Jax was asleep again, coiled up on his chest, and Harry rested a hand over his warm new scales. The snake had shed his skin a couple days before. It had been slightly more harrowing than normal, as the serpent had started giving off green and purple sparks as he did so. Something that had never happened before and resulted in one of the armchairs in the sitting room catching fire.

Harry had panicked a bit when Snape ran in from the kitchen, thinking that this was finally going to be the thing that resulted in harsh punishment. But the man had just calmly extinguished the little fire and raised an eyebrow at them both.

“I distinctly remember requesting you _not_ set fire to my home.”

Harry could only stare up at him in dismay, completely at a loss for what to do.

Jax had finished shedding at that point and was wriggling around on the floor in relief.

“Sorry, sir. He’s never done that before.”

Snape had looked over at Jax, who was oblivious to the fact that he’d nearly burned the whole place down.

“Fascinating.” Was all the man had said, Harry had offered up the shed skin in apology, Snape had been kind enough to leave him half.

Now, Harry watched as the sun slowly rose over the dingy houses of Cokeworth, and thought maybe... Maybe things would work themselves out if he just hung on a little longer.

~~~~~~~>

At breakfast, Harry pushed his eggs around without really eating. Still thinking of the dream and not really trusting his stomach to hold onto anything he put into it.

“Are you not feeling well, Mr. Potter?”

Harry startled a little, unused to conversation at the table. He looked up at Snape, saw the badly hidden concern in his face and sighed.

“I had a nightmare.” He said, instead of answering directly.

Snape nodded, motioning with his fork for Harry to continue. It wasn’t something he would have ever considered doing at the start of the summer. But Harry had been living at Spinner’s End for nearly three months, with very little incident and far better treatment than he could ever have hoped for from his own blood relatives.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

If Snape was surprised by the question, he didn’t let it show. Only carefully set his utensil down and pushed his plate away, seeming to consider the query seriously before answering.

“Yes, I have.”

Harry had been both expecting that answer and surprised to be given it so freely, so he pressed on.

“Was it necessary?”

Snape frowned, folding his hands together in front of him. Harry was almost afraid to meet his eyes, scared of what he might find there.

“At the time it seemed so.” He finally answered after the silence between them had grown so thick with tension that Harry feared he might burst under the pressure. “Looking back... I wish I had made different decisions, so that such things would not have come to pass.”

Harry did not really know what to do with that. There hadn’t been any other choices for him, everything had happened so fast. Maybe if he had spoken up about the attacks in the first place...

“Hindsight, of course, is always 20/20, Mr. Potter.” Snape interrupted his spiraling thoughts. “We do things that we think are correct. Or for the correct reasons. And it isn’t until later that we realize just how wrong we were.”

He spoke from a place of such deep pain and understanding that Harry found himself holding back tears.

“What happened to you was through no fault of your own.” Snape went on, voice firm and unyielding. “And though you may regret the act in and of itself, I find I do not care one whit for the life that was snuffed in exchange for three far worthier souls.”

The man reached across the table and laid a long-fingered hand over Harry’s trembling one that still clutched at a fork.

“A man is dead, Harry, and you can not take back the circumstances. But do not think for a second that the blame lies with you.”

“But I did it, it was my hands, my magic that killed him...”

“Yes.” Snape agreed, fingers tightening in an oddly comforting grip. “But he only reaped what he had sown by aligning himself so completely with the shade of a madman. I doubt he would have survived much longer under that parasite, in any case.” 

It offered little peace of mind to Harry, who still could not get the image of Quirrell's bubbling, blackened face to leave his thoughts, no matter how deep he tried to bury them. He pulled back from Snape, who let him go after only a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m pretty tired still, I think I’ll go lay down for a bit.”

Snape gave him a searching look before nodding.

“If you wish to talk further...”

Harry shook his head and escaped before anything else decided to fall from his mouth, or the tears from his eyes as they so dearly wished to.

He would be returning to Hogwarts in a week. Where he could distract himself with classes and friends and avoiding the new Defence teacher as much as possible.

Harry just wished it was easier to rid himself of the guilt that seemed to follow him around like a dark cloud.


	7. Chapter 7

Platform 93/4 was quiet when Snape Apparated them there, early on the 1st. He had asked if Harry prefered to ride the train in, or if he’d like to come straight to the castle with him. Harry had chosen the train, thinking it would just raise too many questions among the other students, if he wasn't on it. He wasn't sure how far the rumor mill had spread about him spending the summer with Snape, but with the small hope that the Slytherins hadn't bandied the information around too much, Harry would continue on as if it were still under wraps. He got enough attention as it was, he did not need the added scrutiny of having spent three months at the Potion Master’s house and what that said about the nonexistent homelife of The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Snape stayed long enough to ensure he and Jax got safely on the train before leaving for the school. Harry had struggled through an awkward thank-you to the man, for letting him stay at Spinner’s End and teaching him Occlumency. He could feel an embarrassed flush crawling up his neck as the words continued to pour from his mouth without much input from his brain and Harry figured they were both relieved with he eventually petered off.

It was a little gratifying that Snape's halting acceptance had been just about as equally awkward, although far briefer.

Then he and Jax were alone on the train, with a good few hours before departure.

It was not as terrible a wait as the previous year had been though, as he had his walkman, and not nearly so many anxious butterflies swirling around his insides.

Harry settled into a seat, with Jax next to him sunning himself as best he could in the weak morning light. He switched the tapes out of his walkman, putting away The Clash and replacing it with The Pogues. It was the first album he had ever listened to at Spinner’s End, and what had been in the walkman when Snape had presented the gift to him that morning. Harry did not know if the man had picked it out because he remembered, or because Harry had played the record a number of times over the summer. Either way, it had been thoughtful enough to make Harry ache for something he'd never had, and probably never would.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he cracked open one the old books Millicent had sent him and settled back to wait, bittersweet melodies floating out of his headphones to chase away the quietness of the near empty train. He was grateful Snape had managed to charm the muggle device to work around so much magic, it would have been nearly unbearable to deal with his newfound thirst for music for almost a full year without any tangible way to access any of it.

Harry supposed he could try and dig through his mind library for the songs, but when he was there his emotions were dulled and far too rational to truly enjoy what he'd be hearing. It just wouldn't be the same.

Besides, Harry still found it somewhat difficult fall into the completely calm state quickly without music in the first place, although he could do it given a good half-hour (whereas with aid it took only a couple minutes at most).

“ _Is there anything in there that uses venom?_ ” Jax asked curiously from his spot coiled in the seat closest the window, purple gem eyes peering up at the large tome covering most of Harry’s lap.

“ _A few, mostly poisons, although I did come across a couple odd brews that looked to be meant to heal._ ” Harry answered, flipping to a bookmarked page and turning it around to show the snake its illustration.

It didn't look like a very pleasant potion to take, given the way the drawn man was grimacing and clutching at his stomach, but Harry figured that was better than being devoured alive from the inside by flesh-eating parasites.

“ _It's asp venom though, I don't think yours would work right. It's a very complicated process, and apparently if you do it wrong enough it could end up dissolving you instead of healing._ ” Harry would definitely stick to just avoiding parasites altogether.

The morning passed slowly at first, as people gradually started trickling onto the platform. They had picked a car pretty far up on the train, for its good vantage point and lower possibility of being walked in on. He saw a few people he recognized being dropped off by harried looking parents, most doling out hastily hugs and kisses to their children before shooing them off. Harry tried to push down the dull burn of jealousy, it wasn't fair and he had come to accept that they would most likely never be on the receiving end of such things. It still hurt to see, though, so he stopped watching after a while.

Millicent found him first, sliding open the car door with her usual abruptness, lugging in her trunk and an unhappily caged Maximus (who yowled indignantly when he was dropped onto a spare seat with little warning).

“Oh shut it you, I'll let you out in a moment.” She huffed at the cat, who sniffed and turned around in his wicker cage to show her his back. Millicent rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Potter, good summer?” She asked as she lifted her trunk up onto the rack with ease, Harry doubted it even had a featherlight charm on it.

Apparently Millicent had also joined Blaise in the bid for tallest second year. Harry did _not_ sigh in despair.

“Yes.” He answered instead, “Professor Snape was very accommodating. Thank you again for the birthday gifts, they're brilliant.” He managed a genuine smile as he held up the book he'd been studying all morning. “I've been taking notes.” He gestured to the notebook on the seat next to him, that held ideas and questions that he wanted to check the library for when they got to school.

“Thought you'd like them, potion swot that you are.” Millicent teased, finally letting her cat out of his wicker prison.

Maximus immediately lept onto the windowsill and turned his pink nose up at both of them. Jax hissed grumpily at the blockage to his sunlight and the cat surprisingly moved over.

“ _Can you talk to him?_ ” Harry asked curiously, it had never occurred to him that his snake might be able to communicate with other animals; that they might be on the same level of intelligence as his serpent.

Jax gave a snakey shrug, “ _It's not words, so much as intent. He's an alright sort, if a bit too fuzzy._ ”

As if to counter everything the serpent had just said, Maximus huffed and hopped down to smother Jax with said fur; laying across the coiled snake with a pleased rumble and licking a paw.

His friend struggled to wriggle free before eventually just resigning himself to his warm and fuzzy fate.

Millicent snorted and flopped down into the seat opposite Harry.

She looked fine, if a little tired around the edges, like she hadn't been sleeping all that well.

“Are you okay?” He asked tentatively, “After last year...”

Millicent’s face hardened before she huffed and crossed her arms, staring out the window at the now bustling platform. Harry feared he'd pushed too hard, that she wouldn't answer and he'd just signed them up for the most awkward train trip he'd ever taken.

But eventually she did speak up, not looking at Harry, and seeming to drag each word out kicking and screaming.

“It's hard, sometimes. Thinking about what happened, what might have happened if you hadn't done what you did.” She glanced at him briefly before turning back to the window. “I am grateful, Harry, but it's hard. Talking about it, thinking about it.”

“I know.” He managed, voice barely a whisper. He could feel his palms start to sweat and rubbed them on the seat cushion. “I'm sorry.”

Millicent snorted weakly and that was the end of that.

He asked about her summer in a more general sense, trying to cut through the tension that had built between them.

Apparently he father had taken her to see family in Romania. She had visited a dragon preserve and got to see a few baby dragons.

“There was a Weasley there, I'm sure if it, you just can't escape that lot.” She nodded out the window where a whole flock of the redheads had burst onto the scene. 

Harry was abruptly reminded of his embarrassing (literal) run-in with the youngest of the brood. Which in turn reminded him of what else had occurred that day.

“Malfoy’s father got into a fistfight with their dad.” Harry told Millicent, who gasped and looked more intently out the window at the unassuming balding man.

“ _No..._ ”

“Yeah, in Flourish and Blotts, Blaise and Snape saw it too; along with about forty housewives and our new Defense professor.”

“So who won?”

Harry shrugged, “It looked about even, Mr. Weasley got pulled out by his wife and scolded ten ways from Sunday and Lord Malfoy had a bloody nose.”

Millicent looked about ten seconds away from rubbing her hand together and cackling with glee.

Which is how Blaise found them a moment later. He took one look at the girl and smirked.

“Told her about the fight, did you?”

Harry nodded as Blaise stowed away his trunk, which obviously held a featherlight charm as he lifted it like it weighed about as much as a pillow and slid it in easily next to Millicent’s.

The girl in question started pumping Blaise for details, which he gave in just about as gleeful a tone. Harry snorted and looked back out the window, spotting the telltale blonde and his parents as they emerged from the hidden entrance and started walking purposefully towards the train. Harry noticed Lord Malfoy deftly maneuvering far out of the path of the swarm of redheads without so much as a look in their direction. Although the man had his nose so high in the air, Harry doubted he could look at much more than the clouds in any case.

Trailing behind the little family, floating along Draco’s trunk and owl cage, was a house elf with exceedingly protuberant eyes. Harry tried to duck subtly out of sight but was too slow as the creature had already seen him and was giving Harry such a look of betrayal that he felt a hot flush of guilt in his belly. Even though the elf was clearly crazy, he had still felt the need to warn Harry of a perceived danger, which was more than most did. Harry just could not do what he had asked, he _needed_ to go to Hogwarts. Other than the simple fact that he literally had nowhere else to go, Harry had come to love the castle and he was looking forward to honing his skills in magic even further. Was hoping, perhaps vainly, now that Quirrell was gone he would be able to actually learn some defensive spells or about the dangers of the wizarding world. Although given what he’d seen of their new professor, he doubted the man would be much help in that department. At least he should be free of the migraines this year.

No one else seemed to notice the frantic looks Dobby was sending him, and Harry got the feeling not very many people actually paid that much attention to house elves in general. Which only made the guilt bubble uncomfortable all the more, Harry knew what it was like to be invisible yet expected to do so much.

Lady Malfoy was hugging her son goodbye, running a smoothing hand over his slicked back hair and murmuring something no doubt sickeningly loving and sweet. Draco accepted it all with his usual smug arrogance, like he knew he deserved all the caring and warmth the woman provided and that it would be foolish to believe otherwise. Harry wonder again what it might be like to be on the receiving end of such unconditional, good, emotions and to know without a shadow of a doubt that he deserved them. The concept was nigh impossible to comprehend.

He had Jax, yes, and they loved each other deeply, but it was vastly different than what occurred between parents and a child.

Lord Malfoy laid a hand on Draco’s shoulder and looked to be imparting some stern advice, but Harry could see warmth in his strict gaze even from so far away. The elder Malfoy might not bring himself down so far as the _hug_ his son in public, but Harry did not doubt for a moment that Draco felt any less loved for it.

Tired of watching, and wanting to avoid the eyes of Dobby as much as possible, Harry shrunk back fully from the window and reached down to pull his headphones back on. He’d slid them off when Millicent had arrived and figured his friends were distracted enough by gossiping that he could get away with it for a few moments at least.

“What’s that?” Millicent immediately asked.

Apparently not, then.

Harry pulled the headphones back down and flushed a bit, Blaise was also looking curious.

“Headphones.” Harry told them, fingering the plastic band, “They’re for listening to music.”

Both purebloods looks equally bemused and Harry hunched his shoulders a little, “It’s a bit muggle.” He admitted, trying not to feel ashamed and unsure why the urge was there in the first place.

Millicent looked vaguely intrigued, but Harry couldn’t quite get a read on what Blaise was thinking.

“How’s it work then?” She asked, demanded really, but Harry was used to that with her after most of a school year spent in the abrupt girl’s company.

“Er, I don’t really know the how of it.” Harry confessed, pulling the walkman from his pocket to show her.

He held out the device and pointed to the various parts, “The headphones plug in here, and a tape goes in this slot.” He opened the deck to demonstrate, pulling out the cassette. “The music is stored on a kind of ribbon and this thing reads it and sends it up the wire so you can hear it through these.”

With each new word he could see the confusion building. Harry huffed a bit and switched seats so that he was now sitting next to Millicent and handed over the headphones.

“Here, put these over your ears.” She eyed them suspiciously before gaining a stubbornly determined face and doing so.

“Okay, this might be a bit loud.” He replaced the tape and hit play.

Millicent jumped in her seat, startled, and Harry could faintly hear the tiny sounds of fast-paced drums and rough guitar. He maybe should have exchanged the Casualties out for something softer before bombarding his friend with something so new and obviously muggle.

“Oh! This is weird, Potter. Are you sure this is music?” Millicent was talking much louder than necessary, her eyes widened; but when Harry went to take them back, she glared and put her hands protectively over her covered ears. “Oi! I didn’t say it was _bad_.”

Harry grinned.

Looking over, he could see Blaise was intrigued despite himself, although he tried to hide it by pretending to examine his manicured nails.

“Did you want a go? When she’s done?”

The other boy gave a put upon huff, “I suppose, if only to see how ridiculous the muggle contraption is.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the snobbery and Blaise smirked, pleased to have gotten a reaction out of him.

Millicent didn’t relinquish the walkman until the tape had run its course, which wasn’t all that long as Harry had listened to about half of it already and their songs tended to be fast and short as a rule.

“How do you get it to start up again?” She was pressing buttons down at random and Harry rescued his poor player before it met an untimely end at her frustrated hands.

“I’ll show you in a bit, after Blaise.”

Figuring the other boy would not care for the current selection as much as Millicent apparently had, Harry switched it out for the more mellow Clash before handing it over to Blaise.

The other boy made a show of sighing and looking generally put upon but followed Harry’s instructions all the same. He didn’t jump like Millicent had, more prepared and also not being immediately shouted at by an angry singer.

He did lose his smug look after a moment though, head tilted to the side as he listened, even bobbing a little; although probably without his knowledge. Harry bit back another grin at his friend's obvious enjoyment.

After a couple songs, Blaise slid the headphones off. “Not bad, Harry. I suppose the muggles had to get _something_ right.”

Harry rolled his eyes again as Millicent made grabby hands for the walkman.

“Leave off, Mil, you got to listen to your whole thing.” Blaise said, firmly restoring the headphones over his ears and pretending not to hear her complaints.

The train started moving a few moments later and Harry felt something loosen up inside him, happy to be going back to Hogwarts. He watched as the platform slowly shrank behind them, to be replaced by rolling fields and spots of forest before too long.

Blaise and Millicent spent the first couple hours fighting over the walkman. Harry pulled his box of tapes out of his trunk for them to sift through. The collection had steadily grown over the summer, Harry stopping into the single small music shop in Cokeworth at least once a week to procure more. He’d also stocked up on a mountain of batteries, as Snape could do nothing about the walkman still needing a power source.

About three hours into their journey Malfoy found them, flanked by the ever present Crabbe and Goyle.

“There you lot are.” The blonde huffed, looking slightly offended that he’d had to come searching for them. “I had a dreadfully boring summer, you’ve no idea.”

Jax had perked up at the sound of Malfoy’s voice as if sensing imminent treats incoming. The snake had been dozing in the warm afternoon light, Maximus having apparently forgiven Millicent for his temporary imprisonment and returned to his usual spot in her lap.

Malfoy then proved the serpent right by immediately pulling a wriggling white candy from his pocket and tossing it over, to be snatched out of the air with a lightning fast lunge. The other boy then made himself comfortable in the last remaining seat on Harry and Blaise’s side of the compartment, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to the seat across from him. Harry tried not to scowl at how Malfoy had just invited himself into their space like it was his right, no matter how sweet he was to Jax.

Blaise smirked at the blonde.

“Nothing interesting at all? Didn’t read any interesting books? No exciting excursions with your father?”

Malfoy narrowed his gray eyes at Blaise, two spots of color appearing at the top of his pale cheeks.

“Not that I recall.” He said in a warning tone, “How is your mother Blaise? I hear she’s caught another hapless bug in her web.”

Now it was Blaise’s turn to narrow his gaze, a dangerous glint rising up in the look.

“She is lovely, I’ll pass along your _complements_.”

Malfoy lost his flush at that, turning a bit peaky as the two faced off. The tension built up in the cabin until it was nearly unbearable.

Then Blaise flashed a bright smile and gave a soft laugh, successfully breaking the bubble of unease. Malfoy huffed and rolled his eyes, kicking Blaise lightly in the ankle.

“The whole thing was the Weasel’s fault, of course. His whole overflowing brood blocking the way out of the shop.” Malfoy sniffed, “No surprise they have about as much manners as money.”

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled at that, although Harry suspected it was trained behavior rather than a true understanding of the insult.

Blaise just hmm’d and looked bored, effectively cutting short the conversation.

Malfoy spent the next few minutes prattling on about the new broom his father had bought him, and how he was sure to make the team that year. He was thankfully interrupted by the food cart witch before Harry completely gave into the desire to leap from the window and walk the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

He bought a few chocolate frogs, for the distraction more than any real hunger; having already eaten the lunch Snape had boxed up for him. It had included a large turkey sandwich, a small bag of crisps, and even a fizzy drink that he'd shared with Blaise and Millicent (the former had decidedly _not_ enjoyed it, the latter demanding where to get more).

Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have bought out the rest of the cart between them, if the explosion of sweets wrappers was any indication. 

In an effort to try and ignore Malfoy’s continued presence, Harry started up a game of chess with Blaise. He was still pants at it, but at least the effort worked in the way it was meant to and they arrived at Hogwarts before Harry grew too annoyed at the blonde’s prattling. Blaise’s snarky remarks in Italian as they played helped too.

The three of them even managed to give Malfoy the slip in the chaos of leaving the train. Millicent had consented to carry Maximus along with her, instead of putting him back in his cage; probably a wise decision on her part. Jax slithered his way up under Harry’s robes to his usual spot across his shoulders and they all followed the flow of the older students away from the platform.

Harry could hear the groundskeeper shouting for the firs’ years, and was hit by a wave of nostalgia for that first magical boat ride.

They rounded a bend and came in sight of a fleet of carriages that were pulled by what had to be thestrals. Harry recognised their skeletal, winged bodies from the album covers in Snape’s collection.

“Wow.” He breathed quietly, walking cautiously up to one of the unoccupied carriages and holding out a calm hand to the horse-like being. “Look at you.”

The thestral watched him warily with one milky, pupiless eye, before snorting a bit and ducking its dragonish head down to snuffle at his hair. Harry held in a laugh and stroked the leathery neck, it was warm and a bit slippery under his hands.

Jax poked his head out of Harry’s collar and gave a quiet hiss at the much larger creature. The thestral licked him, which given the size of the snake made for a pretty thorough head washing.

“P-Potter?”

Harry looked over to see a wide eyed Longbottom off to the side, he was looking between Harry and the thestral with a pinched sort of pale face.

“It’s fine, Longbottom.” He reassured the Gryffindor, the creature might look sort of spooky, but they seemed calm and nice enough. “Here, use some of that famed courage and give him a pat.”

The other boy looked like he wanted to do nothing of the sort, but after a moment seemed to build up enough force of will and stepped closer.

The thestral became much more interested in the new company than it had Harry and began immediately nosing around Longbottom’s robes with a determined air.

“Oh, er, umm...” Longbottom did not look like he appreciated the vetting, going a bit paler in the face.

“What’s in your pocket?” 

“Oh, right.” The boy then pulled out half a roast sandwich and unwrapped it, offering it up to the thestral.

The thing stopped sniffing at the Gryffindor’s robes and started nosing at the treat, knocking the bread and other bits away to get at the meat with surprisingly delicate little snaps of its large teeth.

Longbottom brought his free hand up and hesitantly patted the large beast along its long neck, looking terrified and thrilled at the same time.

“Not so bad, right?” Harry asked, getting a shaky nod in return.

Longbottom ended up in their carriage, along with Finch-Fletchley (who had popped up out of nowhere with a blazing smile and far too much energy), and they all started the bumpy ride up to the castle.

The Hufflepuff spent most of the ride pestering Millicent about how her summer went, Harry supposed it was because she was the one across from him in the small space. Harry was glad it hadn’t been him.

“So, you can see them too Longbottom?” Blaise asked the other boy, who was trying to stop his errant toad from leaping out the open window.

Longbottom shrugged and ducked his head a bit, “My grandfather.”

Blaise nodded, face impassive but not cold. Harry was confused by the conversation, getting the feeling he was missing a key part of what was being said.

“My mother’s third husband, heart attack at the table.”

Heart attack. Death.

“My condolences.” Longbottom murmured, finally managing to stuff Trevor into his pocket. “I wasn’t expecting them to be pulling the carriages, bit of a fright.”

Blaise waved a hand, “The man had been none too kind to the staff, and something of a bore besides, we did not mourn him long. It is interesting to see who can and cannot see them, if nothing else. And I’m sure they are perfectly domesticated, if they’re allowed to pull the carriages.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Longbottom conceded, looking reassured by the thought.

Harry eyed Blaise, who gave him a quick wink. He’d worked out that only some could see the thestrals, people who had seen someone die. That gave the Thestral Sight band name a whole new connotation in his mind, and he wished the wizarding world had advanced further along so that he could have a tape of them to listen to. Perhaps he’d get some blanks and record one himself.

Of course, he did not even know if he would be returning to Spinner’s end after the school year.

He hoped so. It had been nice there, if awkward. And Snape had not seemed to mind his company overmuch. Maybe if he worked hard enough, they could stay there again.

Then the full realization about thestrals hit him. He could see them because he’d seen Quirrell die. Because he’d _killed_ him.

Suddenly the carriage seemed much too confined a space and the air far too thin.

Luckily he managed to get the burgeoning panic under control long enough for them to reach the school. Ignoring the buzzing in his ears as they all tumbled out of the carriages and started trudging up to the main entrance.

He didn’t look back at the thestrals, at the evidence of his crimes, just forward to his future and the opportunity to move past them.


	8. Chapter 8

Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley broke off from the group to join their own tables once everybody reached the Great Hall. The large space was just as breathtaking as the first time Harry had laid eyes on it. With its floating candles and ceiling displaying a twinkling blanket of stars along the night sky. The other students around them were all chatting happily about their summers and what they planned to do throughout the year, filling the hall with a low buzz of pleasant noise that did much in assuaging Harry of his misgivings from the carriage ride.

As he went to sit at his usual spot, Blaise tutted and pulled them further up the table.

“We’re not firsties anymore, we’ve gone up in rank.” the boy said, flashing a smug little smile.

Harry rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be moved, he’d have to have a word with the house elves about his new placement though.

They were soon joined by the rest of their yearmates as the hall slowly filled up. Harry glanced around, seeing that the majority of the teachers were in place at the long table, save McGonagall. Snape gave him a curt nod before returning to scowling out over the vast sea of students. Dumbledore was speaking with Flitwick and Harry quickly looked away before he was caught by the man's twinkling gaze. Lockhart was up there too, between Professor Sinistra and the massive form of the groundskeeper. Lockhart looked to be chatting quite merrily at the unfortunate Astronomy teacher, who seemed about ready to use the steak knife gripped in her hand for a more nefarious purpose.

At least the presence of the groundskeeper meant the sorting should start soon.

At their table, Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were gossiping about their new professor in excited whispers that contained far too much high pitched squealing to really be all that stealthy. Luckily they were further down from Harry, behind the bulk of Crabbe and Goyle, so he did not actually have to listen to them.

Across from him, Draco was pouting about being abandoned to find his own carriage; apparently he'd been forced to share with the girls and had quite his fill of their gossip. Although Harry did find it amusing that the blonde was annoyed by someone _else_ prattling on.

“My apologies, Draco, we must have got separated in the crowd.” Harry said before the other boy could build up too much of a huff.

Malfoy waved a hand as if all were forgiven. Harry had found the quickest way to bring him out of one of his moods was to demure a bit and give the blonde some of the attention he wanted. Blaise nudged his foot under the table and Harry hid a grin in his collar.

Before anyone could say much else, McGonagall entered the room with a line of tiny, nervous looking first years in tow. The Great Hall quieted down as everyone's attention turned to the dais and the stool the deputy Headmistress set in the middle of it, the sorting hat perched crookedly atop.

All the students seemed to hold their breath as one, then the slit near the brim of the hat opened and it started singing.

The song was different from the one Harry had heard last year, but the message was the same. It explained the four Houses, gave a little snippet about each founder and then fell silent. Harry clapped politely with the rest of the students, wondering if the thing spent the entire year crafting a new song. It must be pretty boring being a hat.

Then McGonagall was unrolling a scroll and calling up the first new student.

“Adams, Wilhelm!” A gangly looking boy with sandy hair stepped forward and took a seat, the hat fell right down over his eyes.

“HUFFLEFUFF!”

A cheer went up from the yellow clad table as the new boy trotted off.

And so it went for the next half an hour. Some of the sortings were near instant, a dreamy looking girl named Lovegood with hair blonde enough to rival Malfoy was sent over to Ravenclaw almost as soon as the hat touched her head. While tiny Creevey seemed to be arguing with it and took a full three minutes before Gryffindor was called out, the boy did not look pleased at the decision.

Slytherin gained seven new students, and Harry clapped along for each. The ceremony was much less nerve wracking from this side of things. It ended with the Weasley girl getting sent over to her brothers, in a move that surprised exactly no one in the hall, though she seemed happy enough. One of the twins even picked her up and gave her a twirl until Percy Weasley made him stop.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and the hall quieted once more.

“Welcome back students, I do hope you have all built up a decent amount of fluff between the ears over the summer; it gives all the new knowledge a softer landing.”

There was a wave of laughter throughout the room, Harry did not join in.

“This year I am pleased to announce our newest professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts: Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart.”

There was an even louder round of cheering at this, as the man in question gave the whole hall a sweeping bow and a smile so dazzling Harry feared for the eyes of the Ravenclaws closest to him. There was a lot of sighing and giggling rising up around the room and Harry just wanted to bang his own head on the table.

“Now,” Dumbledore continued, in an effort to regain wandering attentions, “I believe I have taken up enough of your precious evening.” Harry could see the twinkle in the man's eye from here as he raised his wand and gave the teachers table a series of quick taps. “Do dig in.”

Food and drink appeared in front of them and Harry was pleasantly surprised to see the house elves had apparently already known he would be moving up the table and all of his regular dishes were spread out in front of him like normal.

He'd have to add something special to their usual order, to show his appreciation. Harry had kept the deliveries up, even during the summer, and it looked like the effort had paid off.

“Excuse me, may I have some of that?” A tentative voice said from beside him, and Harry looked up to see one of the new Slytherins pointing to a green curry with a hopeful expression on his face.

Malfoy looked ready to say something snarky, all too willing to start welding his perceived greater standing and start pushing others about just because he thought he could. Harry shot the blonde a warning glare and waved the boy to take what he wanted.

“What's your name?” He asked as the first year piled curry on top of rice with determination.

“Evgeny Weir, thank you.” He said with a raise of his near overflowing plate.

Evgeny Weir had a pale face and spoke with a faint Slavic accent, he looked like he could use a few good meals in him.

“No problem, Slytherins stick together.” He said with a pointed glance at Malfoy, who rolled his eyes but huffed in agreement all the same. “I'm Harry Potter.”

He held out a hand to the boy, who to his credit did not even blink at the name; although it was clear it was familiar to him. Evgeny set his plate down momentarily to shake, before retreating back into the group of firsties at the end of the table; all of whom started bombarding the poor boy with whispered questions.

The feast was was pleasant enough, but Harry enjoyed the fact that he was sharing it with his friends more than the food itself. There were a few leading questions from the other Slytherins about how his summer was, what Snape was like outside of school. He didn't blame them for their curiosity, but also did not give much away other than that the man was still stern and expecting of good behavior.

Luckily, the noisiest of those near him were still too preoccupied with gossiping about Lockhart to bother Harry much.

Soon their desserts were finished and the plates cleared for the last time. Dumbledore rose again to give a short reminder of the basic school rules before dismissing them all to their dormitories.

Harry followed the familiar path down through the dungeons, feeling full and warm and content. It was good to be back at Hogwarts.

Millicent bade them goodnight. Well, more like grunted to them in a manner that conveyed as much, before disappearing down the girl’s corridor. Snape appeared just as she left to give a speech to the first years, just as he'd done for them. Before he departed, the Potion Master gave Harry another of his subtle nods before sweeping away in his usual dramatic fashion.

Harry held in a smile and followed a yawning Blaise to their room. The dark wood of the door was now label _SECOND YEARS_ on its silver plaque, but the insides were the same, even their trunks were in the same positions.

He let Jax slither out to coil up in the center of the green blankets, so that he could get his night things ready.

Crabbe and Goyle had both already fallen face first onto their own four posters and were snoring loudly. Malfoy had a pained look on his face, eyeing the two hulking boys despairingly.

“They didn't even bother removing their shoes...”

Theo gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder as he went past.

Harry, instead of giving into his amusement, gathered up Jax and went to take a shower.

As he lay in bed later, it took longer than usual to clear his mind, even with the gentle tinkling of a piano in his ears. It had been a long day, and there was a lot to process. Jax was coiled warmly under Harry’s shirt, one of the ones he'd liberated from Spinner’s End. It was much too big on him for everyday wear, but worked marvelously as a sleeping top. It was soft, and still smelled faintly of the room he'd spent his entire summer in.

It was comforting and familiar, which Harry concentrated on instead of the swirling emotions, eventually reaching his desired state of mind.

He spent a few moments relaxing in the numbing emptiness before turning off his walkman and storing it safely under his pillow.

He could hear the rustling and sleep sounds of the other boys now, but it didn't bother him like it might otherwise have. He let his eyes close and his thoughts float to their proper places in his twisting turning library.

He was asleep from one breath to the next and managed to stay that way the entire night through.

~~~~~~~>

As he looked at the schedule Snape handed him at breakfast, he noticed it was nearly identical to last year's; with the exception of there being no more flying lessons. It made a certain amount of sense, seeing as how they wouldn't be given new courses until the following one.

It would be easy to remember at least.

“ _Are there eggs?_ ” Jax hissed from Harry’s satchel. They’d decided to try out the bag for a bit, as the snake still fit quite well with the expansion charms, thankfully.

Harry wasn’t sure how well they'd work next year, with the increase in coursework and therefore more space being taken up. Especially if the serpent kept growing at the rate he'd been going this summer.

Harry palmed an egg from the little bowl on the table (placed precisely within reaching distance of his plate, definitely getting a special gift for the house elves), and slipped it into the bag. Jax gobbled it up with a happy sound and Harry snorted into his oatmeal.

“I trust you are able to continue with what you have learned over the summer, without further guidance from myself?” Snape was back over his shoulder, and Harry did his best not to jump.

“Yes sir, I should be fine. I was able to clear my mind and didn't have any trouble sleeping.” It hadn't occurred to him until now that they would be putting a stop to the lessons when the term started.

The thought made him a little sad, he'd grown to really like spending those quiet hours in the sitting room at Spinner’s End. Along with their shared meals, as awkward as they sometimes had been.

He glanced up at Snape and the man seemed to know what he was thinking. He gave Harry a searching look, black eyes intense. After a moment he bent down and spoke in a lower voice so that the smattering of other early risers would not hear.

“If you wish to talk, know that my door is still open.” He paused, as if unsure about speaking more before continuing. “If you need a quiet place to _not_ talk, I am willing to offer such as well.”

“Th-thank you, sir.” Harry was stunned, a warm flush rising up his neck at the unexpected kindness.

Snape just nodded sharply and straightened back up.

“As you were, Mr. Potter, I'll not have all my hard work getting some meat on your bones over the summer go to waste.” And with that, the Potion Master swept away to hand out more schedules.

Harry did as told, still feeling oddly warm and pleased for no discernable reason.

~~~~~~~>

The walk down to the greenhouses for their first lesson was nice until they saw who was talking with Professor Sprout. 

Lockhart was smiling his overly toothy grin and rambling about something or other and Sprout looked about ready to shove her gardening shears somewhere dark and surely painful. Unfortunately they could not sneak past the duo, as they were standing right by the entrance.

“Ah! And here is Harry, just the boy I was looking for.” Lockhart turned his too-white smile on him and took far too many steps closer, invading Harry personal space in a way he did not particularly care for.

He resisted the urge to hide behind Millicent’s more intimidating bulk and tried instead to bring up his most neutral expression.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry put emphasis on the title, hoping the man would take a hint and stop using his first name so often.

“Now, Harry, I was hoping to have a word with you. One aspiring hero to another. It occurs to me that a boy such as yourself, with no doubt some lofty aspirations,” He eyed Harry’s green and silver tie and gave him an exaggerated wink, “would be in need of some guidance. Now, I, Gilderoy Lockhart,” He sprayed a hand over the chest of his powder blue robes, “would be more than willing to fill in that role of mentor. I mean, you don't get to be the winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award five years in a row without some effort put in, and--”

“Excuse me, Professor.” Harry interrupted before the man could go on any further, “I don't really have time to talk about this right now, we have Herbology to get to.”

He put on a sorry sort of face and nodded a bit at the greenhouse behind them. As much as Harry only really tolerated the subject, it was still better than listening to Lockhart stoke his own ego. Merlin knew what he thought he could possibly teach him, and Harry was not exactly keen on finding out. Best to try and avoid any sort of obligation.

“Oh tosh, I'm sure lovely Pomona will excuse you for missing a few measly minutes of class.” Lockhart turned his toothy grin back to Sprout and Harry took the opportunity to send her a pleading look.

He must have seemed desperate enough because she squared her shoulders a bit and gave Lockhart a stern shake of her head.

“Sorry, Professor Lockhart, I'm afraid that won't be possible. I need to have a word with Mr. Potter myself, and I simply cannot allow a student to miss class for non-emergency purposes, due to the dangerous nature of the course. I cannot risk a child being unaware of a potential hazard because they missed a portion of the lecture.”

Lockhart slumped a bit looking somewhat like a kicked puppy, but bounced back almost as quickly.

“Quite understandable, yes, safety first of course. Now, Harry, I would love it if you were to come to my office when you have some free time to further discuss your future.”

“Sure, Professor, when I have free time.” Harry would never have said time, he would rather scrub cauldrons for hours on end; at least Snape might let him listen to his walkman as he did so.

Lockhart flounced off in a flutter of power blue and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Professor.” He told Sprout, who gave him a knowing look and a shake of the head at the retreating man.

“Barmy, that one, but you didn't hear it from me.”

“Of course not, Professor.” The three of them chorused, with matching smirks.

Sprout huffed, “Devils, the lot of you.” but she was smiling, “In you go, Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Zabini, I do actually need a word with Mr. Potter.”

Harry waved his friends off, it couldn't be anything too serious, not with the term having barely started. Maybe she wanted to talk about him putting more effort in the subject.

“Am I right in thinking you have your little friend with you today?” She gave his bag a pointed look and Harry took an involuntary step back, suddenly not so amused.

“Calm down, Potter, if I minded I would have brought it up last year.” Sprout said briskly, her no-nonsense tone bringing his racing heart under control. “I only ask, because we are working with a very volatile plant today that can cause serious harm to those that hear its cries. Now I have earmuffs for the class, but none that would fit your familiar. There is a tank in my office, I usually use it to store mice for the more carnivorous plants, but it's empty at the moment. You are free to keep it there, or run _quickly_ back to the dorms.”

Harry stared at the Professor, blown away by the kindness of the offer. That she even felt the need to make it. Harry was far from her favorite pupil, he knew. That she would do this for him...

Harry could see why she was head of Hufflepuff House.

“Thank you, Professor.” He said, voice rougher than he meant it to be, “Let's me ask him.”

Harry opened his satchel, Jax raised up a curious head from his side of the partition.

“ _Hey, we're working with something too dangerous for you to stay in my bag._ ” He explained the situation and Jax agreed that the tank was fine, so they took a little trip into greenhouse two, which housed a lot of mundane plants and Sprout’s office. Which was only recognizable as such by the presence of a desk and not much else. There were plants growing on every surface and bags of various mulches piled in the corner.

There was one tiny bookcase only two shelves high filled with magical almanacs, plant dictionaries, and the aforementioned tank on top. Harry opened it up and let Jax slip in, warming the glass with a touch.

“ _I'll be back as soon as class is done, the door will be locked so no one can get in, I promise. Here._ ” He dug the walkman out of his bag and put it in the tank. “ _You remember which button does what?_ ”

Jax huffed and wriggled in a manner that screamed _duh_. Harry smiled and reached in to stroke across the purple speckles on his snout. He couldn’t help being nervous, they were very rarely apart.

“ _I'll be fine, go on. Just know you'll be telling me all about these yelling plants later._ ”

“ _Okay, okay, I love you._ ”

His snake flicked out his purple tongue, licking his thumb and bobbed in an affirmative way, “ _I love you too, now stop holding up class._ ”

Harry sent a guiltily look over his shoulder at the Professor, who was politely not paying them any mind and watering some of the million plants in the room.

Harry gave Jax one last pat and closed the lid. His serpent bobbed a farewell before using his snout to press the play button on the walkman and settle down for what looked to be a nap. Harry wished he could be so calm about this.

“Okay, Professor, sorry if I took too long. We really appreciate the warning.” He told her as they started back to the other greenhouse.

Sprout waved a hand, a smile on her stout face.

“It's no problem at all, Potter.” She sent him a far more welcoming wink than Lockhart’s, “Longbottom does speak very highly of you, and I do try to reduce the amount of damage done in my class.”

Harry flushed but was saved from having to reply by their arrival at the greenhouse. He hurried over to the free spot between Blaise and Millicent, giving them a quick rundown of what happened while Sprout called the class to order.

They were apparently working with mandrakes today, and when they were instructed to don their earmuffs Harry was extremely relieved that Jax was not there to hear anything.

The screams were piercing, even through his fluffy purple muffs. The thing looked like a dirty squealing baby and was just about as ugly. It was a grueling hour and a half of work repotting the things, but at least he and Millicent managed well enough, despite how filthy they ended up. Blaise, on the other hand, was looking as miserable as Harry had ever seen him, with dirt smeared across his dark cheeks and his expensive robes wrinkled beyond hope. Sue Li, his Ravenclaw partner, did not look much better but had a determined air about her that somehow managed to pull them both through to the end of the lesson.

They were set an essay on the healing properties of mandrakes, due next week, before being released to go clean themselves up. Blaise grumbled the entire time it took to pick up Jax from Sprout’s office (he had indeed been sleeping), all the way down through the corridors to their dormitories, and even into the loo as they took the opportunity to wash up before lunch.

Harry refrained from laughing in his friend's face, and instead reassured him that he only needed to wait until sixth year to drop the subject. It was not as reassuring a statement as Harry thought it might be.

Ah, well.


	9. Chapter 9

“Hiya, Harry! Smile!” Shouted a high pitched voice before a bright flash nearly blinded him in the corridor.

Harry took a quick two-step back and blinked away the spots from his eyes to find a grinning first year Gryffindor clutching a camera in front of him.

“Hi. I'm Colin Creevey, it's so exciting to meet you! I heard all about you when I found out I was magic and I wanted to be in the same House but the stupid sorting hat wouldn't listen. Can I have another picture? Maybe with both of us? I'm taking all sorts to show my Da when I go home for the holidays. A boy in my dorm even said if I develop them in a special potion that they'll _move_! Isn't magic wonderful?”

All of this was said very rapidly and without the apparent need to _breath_.

Harry blinked at the boy, still trying to figure out just what was happening.

“Er, sorry, but I need to get to class, or I'll be late.” He managed after a moment of Creevey gazing up at him with wide puppy dog eyes, he seemed to be vibrating in place.

The Gryffindor slumped at that and shuffled his feet, looking dejected. Harry almost gave in, feeling an unpleasant rise of guilt, but pushed the feelings aside and gave the boy a slightly strained smile instead.

“Maybe another time.”

“Really?” Creevey squeaked, perking up.

“Sure,” Harry held up a finger and gave the Gryffindor as stern a look as he could manage (which after spending an entire summer with Snape was pretty severe) “But you need to ask first, I don't like people jumping out and surprising me.”

The boy flushed and looked embarrassed.

“Sorry, I just didn't want to miss you.”

“Fine, I'll forgive you this time, if we have a deal.” Harry held out a hand and Creevey nearly dropped his camera in his haste to shake.

“Yes, yes, of course! I promise!”

“Good, now we really need to be going.” Harry managed to extract his hand from the enthusiastic first year’s and the boy grinned wide before running off, nearly tripping on his too long robes.

Harry shook his head in bemusement and shared a look with Millicent. Both of them silently agreeing about the oddity of the encounter. Blaise was too busy snickering about Harry having a _fan_ to be any kind of sympathetic.

At least he’d been reminded that he really should get his own pictures developed. He'd taken quite a few at Spinner’s End. A couple of Snape glaring into his morning cup of tea, long hair sleep mussed and dressed in black terrycloth. He'd even manage to sneak a shot of the man working the garden, with his hair tied up in that bun and scowling at some hapless weeds; it was an image he'd dearly love to have tangible possession of.

Harry’s musings were cut short as they finally made it to the Defense classroom. They were one of the last to arrive and took seats in the back. The room, thankfully, no longer reeked of garlic. But was instead covered in grinning, dashing, portraits of Lockhart himself. All with blindingly white teeth and shining hair, doing various heroic poses and flaunting about their pictures like the peacocks at Malfoy Manor.

Harry's estimation of the man's teaching skills were confirmed when he presented them with a test right away, but every question was inane trivia. Like: _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?_ and _Where does Gilderoy Lockhart like to spend his holidays_ and _How many times had Gilderoy Lockhart won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award?_.

Harry flipped through the quiz, there were _three_ pages of this tripe.

“What the hell?” He muttered to Blaise, who was filling in questions with slyly sarcastic replies and a vicious smirk on his face.

“Told you the guy was a pillock.”

Harry and Millicent snorted in unison and followed Blaise’s example. The next forty minutes were spent trying to hold in their sniggers and outdo one another on most ridiculous answer. Lockhart used the class time split between fixing his hair in an ornate hand mirror and reading through what looked to be a pile of fan mail on his desk.

Harry had just finished jotting down _To have a smile bright enough to blind his enemies_ for _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_ , when the man himself called time and skipped about the room collecting the tests.

“Tisk, tisk, students.” He said, flicking through the papers with a pout, “Hardly any of you knew my favorite color is lilac, or that my dearest wish is for world peace and to start my own line of hair care products.”

He gave them all disappointed looks and a shake of the head, “In fact, only three of you seemed to managed decent marks. Five points to Slytherin for Miss Parkinson, Miss Greengrass, and Mr. Goyle.” 

Everyone turned to stare at Goyle in shock, the large boy flushing, for once trying to look smaller than he was.

“You can _read_?” Malfoy whispered disbelievingly.

Goyle looked like he wanted to be offended but didn’t quite know how to pull off that sort of emotion towards the blonde and so resorted to his usual grunt of assent.

“Huh.” Malfoy shrugged and turned back to the front of the class, where Lockhart was now reading a passage from one of his books.

Class ended soon after and Harry narrowly avoided being kept back by claiming he really needed to use the loo and scarpering away as quickly as possible.

“That man is a complete joke, honestly.” A girl, Tracey Davis, in front of them complained.

Parkinson and Greengrass both giggled and sighed.

“Of course he is,’ Greengrass said with a flick for her long brown hair, “but he’s pretty enough that it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Millicent snorted softly and they followed their Housemates down to the Great Hall for lunch.

~~~~~~~>

The next couple weeks passed fairly quickly. With Harry reestablishing their study group from the previous year and agreeing to keep up with the potions tutoring with Longbottom. As the other boy had found him and turned pleading eyes on him in a way that brokered no argument from Harry.

“Although, to be honest, Longbottom, you’ve got most of the basics down now. I don’t think you actually need the help anymore.” Harry had reassured the Gryffindor, who looked startled and pleased but uncertain with the claim.

“I’d still like it if we could keep on, I mean, if it’s not too much bother?”

Harry could feel the guilt creeping up at the idea of abandoning Longbottom to the wiles of Second Year Potions and had agreed. He would suspect the other boy of manipulating him, if he didn’t already know how self-deprecating Longbottom tended to be.

“I wanted to thank you again, for the birthday gift, and ask when your’s was; so that I could return the favor.”

Longbottom had flushed a bit and smiled shyly before answering, “It’s actually, ah, the day before yours. The 30th.” The other boy looked a bit embarrassed to be admitting it, though Harry could not fathom why.

“Oh, well now I feel doubly bad.” He said to Longbottom, “I would definitely have sent something, had I known. Perhaps,” Harry hesitated only a moment, that nagging sense of impending rejection niggling the back of his mind. “Perhaps next year, we can meet up, for lunch or something.”

Longbottom gave him a disbelieving, but hopeful smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He really would, it would be nice to see someone other than Draco bloody Malfoy over the summer. And he’d never really spent time with a friend his own age on his birthday before, it might be fun.

“Okay, Potter, I’d really like that.”

“You can call me, Harry.” He said, feeling that if they were making summer plans, it was the least he could do.

“Then you must call me Neville.” The Gryffindor insisted, after getting over his shock.

“Alright, Neville.” Harry conceded, even letting the boy have the hug he so clearly wanted to give him.

Although Harry did pull away as quickly as propriety allowed. Longbottom, _Neville_ , was tactful enough not to mention it.

With the weekend came Quidditch tryouts. Harry knew this because Malfoy would not shut up about them, although surprisingly he had opted to withhold the information about the offer his father had made to buy all new, top of the line, brooms for the whole team. Seemed the blonde actually wanted to prove something, Harry wished him good luck.

He didn’t go to watch the tryouts, instead choosing to spend the time with Blaise reacquainting themselves with the school library. He’d invited Millicent along that morning but she’d had something else to do, so it was just the two of them and Jax (who was staying deep in Harry’s satchel or else be plagued by endless sneezes).

They picked out a few books on defense, figuring it would be better to study the subject on their own, rather than rely on Lockhart.

Who’s latest lesson had included bringing in a cage full of angry Cornish Pixies and letting them loose on the class. Most of the students had fled into the corridors, but Harry, Blaise and Millicent had been forced to stay behind and round Pixies up after they had got hold of Lockhart’s wand and set fire to his desk.

It had been a slightly harrowing experience that ended in quite a few Pixies being bashed into unconsciousness by Millicent and a deftly wielded chair and some frozen by Harry and Blaise with well aimed _petrificus totalus_. Although they ended up one short, as Jax had joined the fray at some point and managed to _eat_ one. Harry had worried the Pixie might have adverse effects, but the snake seemed fine.

“ _It tasted a bit tingly, but not bad. Can we get some for snacks?_ ” Jax asked hopefully, looking up at Harry with pleading purple eyes. Harry just sighed and pinched his nose the way Snape was prone to when exasperated and coaxed the serpent back into his bag.

Hopefully, Lockhart wouldn’t notice the absence of one Pixie. Given that the man had thought it a good idea to let loose an entire swarm of them on untrained second years, without much in the way of warning; Harry doubted he’d taken the time to _count_ them beforehand. He was proven correct when, in the next class, they had all three been awarded points for swift and efficient wrangling of the beasts.

“And with much less destruction than those Gryffindors, who managed to not only take out the chandelier, but also let those pesky buggers ruin one of my favorite paintings.” Lockhart looked longingly at a large blank space on the wall, the other paintings gave it similar forlorn glances.

Harry was just glad the incident seemed to have knocked all ideas of practical lessons from the man’s head. He doubted they’d do well against anything bigger than the Pixies.

When the Quidditch results were posted, Harry was unsurprised to see Malfoy had gotten Seeker, as the blonde was not bad at flying. He hoped it would serve as a lesson that the boy could do things for himself, without relying so heavily on his father’s reputation and money. Those were good things to have, yes, but if they were all you had, eventually you’d come across a problem they could not fix, or become so indebted that he’d never be able to extricate himself if he so wished. Maybe that was just Harry’s paranoid musings, but he did not like the idea of being so reliant on another person, of that person holding so much power over him.

Maybe it was different with family, or maybe that made it worse. Harry wouldn’t know.

He _was_ surprised to see Millicent’s name also up on the list, under Beater.

“I didn’t even know you were trying out.” Harry said, feeling guilty, “I would have come to support you.”

Millicent waved him off, but looked pleased all the same.

“No worries, Potter, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. There were quite a few older students also going for it.”

“With the way you handled those Pixies, I doubt anyone else could do better.”

That got an actual laugh out of the girl and they spent the rest of the evening celebrating, with sweets and hot chocolate pilfered from the kitchens. The house elves had greeted Harry with their usual enthusiasm and more, showering him with way too many goods for them to possibly make their way through without the help of the entirety of Slytherin House.

“We’s be glad Mr. Harry Potter is being back. And thankful for his continued generosity during the months he is not being in school.” Fitzy told them whilst piling bags of goods into their arms.

“Of course, I have something here for you.” Harry managed to get in edgewise, carefully setting down his goods and reaching into his satchel to pull out the package that he’d ordered, it had arrived that morning. “In thanks for all your excellent work.”

Fitzy looked flabbergasted to be receiving anything and Harry motioned for the elf to open it. “It’s not much, just something for all of you to share.”

The elf hesitantly opened the package to reveal a veritable mountain of Mars Bars and other muggle treats that house elves would have difficulty acquiring on their own.

As soon as they realized exactly what it was, Harry found himself on the receiving end of what could only amount to a squirming pile of elf hugging and squeezing, as they all seemed to converge on him at once with much squeaking and cheering. Thankfully Millicent was able to extract him before he was buried completely, or he started to panic.

They ended up leaving with even more goods than they could possibly need and the happy cries of house elves in their ears.

“I bet you could ask for an entire roast pig and they’d whip three of them right up for you.” Blaise mused, hefting his sack higher on his shoulder. Millicent was hauling two more and floating a third, while Harry dealt with his singular one.

He would have shrugged, if not weighed down, and so nodded instead. “Probably, I’m just happy I don’t have to deal with the same meat and three veg every night.”

Not that Hogwarts food was bad, or that he was ungrateful to have access to all that he wanted. Harry wouldn’t even dream of turning away food, even if it was bland English fare, he was just glad to have the option for something different.

“House elves can be powerful allies.” Blaise continued, as they rounded the corner to the corridor that held the entrance to the Slytherin common room. “They serve wizards, yes, but they have their own sort of magic and are fiercely loyal.”

Harry thought of Dobby, the crazy Malfoy elf, and wondered how bad things must be for him if he was betraying his master like that. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, not wanting to ruin the evening’s good mood. If something were to happen this year, he had already told Snape to be on the lookout. For now, they had celebrating to do and far too many sweets get through, although he suspected Crabbe and Goyle would do wonders in helping with that.

~~~~~~~>

Early one morning, Harry joined Millicent (and ostensibly Malfoy) on the way to the Quidditch Pitch, to watch their practice. Malfoy’s father had come through on his promise of new brooms and Millicent had promised to let him have a go on hers when they were done.

When they got to the field, however, it was to find the Gryffindors already there and looking ready to start training as well.

“Oi! Flint! I’ve booked the pitch, already.” The Gryffindor Captain shouted, leading his team to meet them at the halfway point and looking upset at the interruption.

“Sorry, Wood. See, I have this note from Professor Snape here,” Marcus Flint waved a bit of parchment at the other boy with a sneering smirk firmly planted on his face, “allowing us use of the pitch, owing to the fact that we need to train our new players.”

“New players? Who?” Wood eyed them, gaze landing on Harry who quickly shook his head and stepped to the side.

“Bulstrode here,” He gestured at Millicent, who was looking bored but caressing her bat in an ominous manner, “and Malfoy, whose father was generous enough to provide the whole team with new brooms.”

“New--?” Wood was looking more crestfallen every moment as he caught sight of just what the Slytherins were carrying. “Are those _Nimbus 2001s_ , are those even out yet?”

Malfoy smirked, obviously pleased, “Just released this week, officially, what’s that you have there? A _Cleansweep 10_? I’ve toy brooms that fly faster than that trash.”

The Slytherins around him all snickered and Malfoy’s smirk grew.

“At least nobody on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in.” A voice from the back of the scarlet and gold group shouted, and Harry could see Ron Weasley pushing his way to the front, apparently he had also tagged along to watch practice.

Malfoy’s smirk dropped, two spots of color appearing high on his cheekbones.

“No? I suppose they let anyone join up, even blood traitors,” he nodded sharply at the various redhead before him, “and _mudbloods_ ,” a gesture at the Gryffindor Chasers, who now looked furious. “Because it’s not as if your House stands any sort of chance this year anyway.”

“How _dare_ you?” One of the Chasers shouted, her dark skin flushed with anger, she looked about ready to bash Malfoy over the head with her broom.

Ron Weasley was quicker though, pulling his wand and shooting a curse at the blonde, it missed but that seemed like a signal to the rest of the Gryffindors to start throwing hexes as well. 

Harry quickly retreated to the side, away from the line of fire and thought hard. He didn’t really care for the other House too much, but he did not want Millicent getting in trouble for beating in some hapless lion’s face.

So he cast a quick _sonorus_ and shouted “STOP!”

Surprisingly enough, everyone did. Fred and George Weasley dropped Miles Bletchley, whom they had been floating above themselves and shooting stinging hexes at. The Gryffindor Chasers stopped shouting and throwing curses at Malfoy and Wood froze mid-step on his way to punch Flint in the nose. Millicent took a couple paces back but did not lower her bat.

Harry drew himself up as much as his limited height would allow and strode forward with all the stern disapproval and cool aloofness he could muster after spending a year watching Snape; if his cloak flared a bit behind him, well, all the better.

“You are all acting like _children_.” He told them, voice returned to normal volume, but holding a deadly serious tone that brokered no arguments. He eyed Malfoy in particular, who flushed and lowered his wand but still looked defiant. “Petty insults and bickering is no way to comport yourselves, as Slytherins or the aristocratic pureblood you take such pride in claiming to be.”

He turned to the youngest Weasley on the field, who was looking smug, “And you. I do not care if he insulted your friends, or mother, or entire House. You do not get to shoot off hexes and deliberately try to harm another student, just because someone hurt your feelings. That’s how people get seriously hurt, or worse.”

“But he called--!” Weasley started and Harry cut him off with a sharp gesture, still speaking in that low, unyielding tone.

“I. Do. Not. Care. There are proper channels for these things, inform your Head of House of any grievances before resorting to violence and bloodshed. I intend to do the same.” Harry turned away from the fuming redhead and glared at Wood.

“I apologise for the mix up in scheduling, in the future, perhaps double check with the other Captains before trying to start fights over a _game_. Now, as I’ve gathered so far, it looks like you had the field reserved well beforehand, so I think it best if we leave before anything further escalates.”

Wood looked ready to argue some more, maybe unhappy about being dressed down by a twelve year old that didn’t even come close to reaching his shoulders, but Harry shook his head in a slow deliberate manner that shut the Gryffindor Captain right up.

“I could, of course, inform Prefect Weasley about today’s misconduct, if you’d prefer to have him mitigate?”

Wood turned the sort of pale that Uncle Vernon would on the occasion he forgot an anniversary and quickly agreed. Flint was sneering, but seemed more amused by the turn of events than angry at losing practice time and gathered up his teammates readily enough.

As they were walking away, Harry could hear one of the twins mutter, “Blimey, he’s like a miniature Snape.”

He hid a pleased smirk in his collar, but could not hold onto the positive emotion long. As Malfoy was scowling at him and came over to demand a word as soon as they reached the relative privacy of the common room. The rest of the team had dispersed, but Millicent flopped down on one of the couches, an obvious presence. The rest of the room was empty, thankfully.

“What was that, Harry? Insulting me in front of everyone?” Malfoy looked haughty and furious and still spoiling for a fight.

Harry could only feel cold anger toward the other boy.

“You were the one throwing around insults, _Malfoy_.” He said, using the surname with deliberate care, something that did not go over well with the other boy, judging from the look on his pointed face. “There are better, more subtle, ways to get a rise out of people if you crave the attention so much. Instead of resorting to base bigotry and hate.”

“Who cares what I called them, it’s true, their whole House is filled with that type of trash. Mudbloods and traitors, the lot of them.”

Harry leveled Malfoy with an icy glare, voice as low and deadly as he had ever managed. “My mother was muggleborn, so I suppose that means you no longer wish to sully yourself with my presence. Consider yourself relieved of the burden, Malfoy. Do not bother asking to study, or partner with me, and do not think for even a second that I will allow you near Jax again.”

And with that, Harry turned on his heel and strode from the common room with as long a stride as his short legs could manage.

“Harry, wait. I didn’t mean--!” But Malfoy’s voice was cut off as the bricks slid back over the entryway.

Harry was too angry to think about where he was going, too frustrated at the fact that he’d probably just ruined any opportunity he’d ever have of turning the other boy’s mind away from his more vile tendencies. He knows Malfoy had decency in him, but he tried to emulate his father too much and Harry did not know how to counter that. With everything he had heard about the elder Malfoy, from his son or other sources, he did not want the other boy to turn out as more of the same.

Harry stopped walking, the anger that had been coursing through him turning into queasy unease and emotional exhaustion, not a pleasant combination. He looked around and found himself outside of Snape’s office, apparently his feet had known where to take him, even if his head was too full of anger to think straight.

Harry only hesitated a moment before knocking on the heavy wooden door.

Snape answered it before Harry’s nerve gave out, looking down at him in mild surprise.

“May I help you, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir, um.” Harry flushed, all the composure he’d held out on the field abandoning him in an instant; and he felt dangerously close to _crying_. “I was w-wondering, if I could have a cup of tea?”

Snape eyed him only a moment before sweeping Harry inside the office and firmly closing the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Severus Snape took a fortifying sip of tea, using the short moment to gather his thoughts and reign in any errant emotions that may have surfaced during Potter’s halting explanation of the morning’s events. The boy sat now, clutching his own cup in slightly trembling fingers, and whispering softly to his snake. The serpent was looped once around Potter’s neck in a hold that would seem unnerving to anyone not used to such sights.

It had taken a bit of maneuvering to get the boy to speak of what brought him to Severus’ door, looking about a half second away from losing his hard earned composure. Severus was not best pleased by what he heard, but not altogether unsurprised. It had only been a matter of time before his supercilious godson put his foot in it. Severus just thanked Merlin that Potter was mindful enough to come to him, before taking drastic measures.

Draco, for all his manners and pretenses, lacked a certain amount of tact. A detriment to any aspiring Slytherin, and a flaw that would need to be rectified before too long.

For now though, he had an (understandably) upset ward that needed reassuring in a way that did not push them both past the point of _too much_. Not a scenario that either of them would relish.

As circumspect as the boy had been in his explanation, Severus had garnered enough to get the gist of the situation. One he had an unfortunate amount of personal experience with.

Severus pushed the small plate of still steaming biscuits that had appeared with the strong tea towards Potter. They smelled strongly of dark chocolate and a hint of coffee, obviously freshly baked; he would have to congratulate the boy on his foresight in gaining such standing with the house elves at a later date. When there was not such a pressing matter at hand.

Potter took a biscuit, breaking off a piece but not eating it, his snake gave the baked good a look of pure hate that would be amusing at any other time.

“Mr. Potter, _Harry_ ,” Severus started, after a last moment to gather his thoughts. “You are aware that I was close to your mother.”

The boy nodded slowly, although it was clear he did not quite see the connection.

“We had a falling out, towards the end of our school days.” He spoke the facts calmly, without inflection from the disjointed emotions carefully locked away behind a wall of Occlumency. “We had been drifting apart for longer than I cared to acknowledge at the time, but the final straw happened when I lashed out in anger and embarrassment, much as Mr. Malfoy has done here, and said things I dearly regretted the moment they were uttered.”

“What did you say?” Potter asked, unable or unwilling to disguise the curiosity in his eyes, _her_ eyes.

It took a monumental amount of effort to say the next part in that same sterile, even tone. But Severus was nothing if not proficient in pushing down unwanted feelings.

“I called her a mudblood.” The boy's eyes widened behind the rectangular frames of his glasses, but to his credit said nothing, waiting for Severus to explain further.

“I have no real excuse, other than teenage stupidity and an overabundance of misplaced anger and spite. When I attempted to reconcile with her later, she refused to even see me.”

“What happened?” Potter’s voice was barely a whisper but seemed to fill the office all the same.

Severus steepled his fingers together and could not quite hold back a frown as he answered.

“She never forgave me. It was nothing more than I deserved. Perhaps, given more time and an absence of war, she may have. I shall never know.” He eyed the boy across the expanse of his desk, taking in the way he had disassembled the biscuit to its component parts and the absolute stillness of his form. No doubt ready to spring from his seat at a moment's notice. There was a solemnity to his eyes as he stared back and Severus could practically see the boy filing away all of this new information and adjusting his perception of Severus along with it.

Only time could truly tell if he had made things better or worse for the knowledge.

“I am telling you this, as you no doubt have already ascertained, because it bears an unfortunate resemblance to what you have told me of today's incident.”

He held up a hand when it looked as if Potter was going to interrupt, cutting off the protest.

“I am well aware that you are not as close or friendly with young Mr. Malfoy as I was to your mother. And rest assured, I _will_ be having words with my godson about comporting himself in a manner that does not bring shame to himself and his family name. I will not stand for any such displays from my House or any other.”

Potter was frowning up at him now, mouth pulled tight in a vaguely startling resemblance to his aunt.

“You seem more concerned that Malfoy was _rude_ , than over what he actually said.” The boy turned accusing eyes on him and Severus held in the pained sigh he dearly wished to air.

Instead, he leaned forward slightly and met his ward’s gaze head on, speaking in a low and serious voice that would leave no question whatsoever of its validity.

“Harry. I shared that story of your mother to show just how seriously I take incidences of such hateful speech. I do not tolerate such things, even from my own godson. He will be punished. I wish you only to consider that he is still very much a child, and prone to childish impulses. The Malfoys are a very prideful family, with a strongly established set of ideals, and Draco is certainly no exception to that. I am well aware of his tendencies towards petulance and arrogance. I have tried to curb them and unfortunately seen little success when he is not currently in my presence.”

Potter let out a soft snort that Severus took for agreement, though he was still frowning.

“You, on the other hand, have shown a remarkable ability with keeping Mr. Malfoy in line, usually in a way that looks nothing of the sort.” Severus gave Potter a nod, “I have been watching your interactions since you were both sorted into my House, and am pleased that you, at least, have taken it upon yourself to embrace the more subtle nature usually ascribed to those in residence. I fully believe you have the potential to sway Mr. Malfoy in ways that I am lacking, or otherwise incapable at the moment of implementing.”

“So, what? You want me to forgive him right away? To pal around with him in the hopes that my mere presence will get him to stop being such a git?” Potter scowled at him, clearly displeased at the very idea.

“Of course not.” Severus shook his head, allowing a ghost of a smirk to appear for a moment. “I believe a strong dose of the cold shoulder will do wonders towards demonstrating that actions do in fact have consequences. If there is one thing I know about my godson, it is that he absolutely abhors being ignored.”

“I'd gathered that much for myself.” Potter agreed, frown softening if not disappearing altogether.

Severus watched as the boy sipped his tea, though it must have gone cold by that point, and glared into the middle distance. He helped himself to one of the biscuits, equal parts affecting an air of openness and actual hunger; they did smell quite good.

It was a long few minutes before Potter spoke again.

“I don't like being compared to my parents.”

The non-sequitur was spoken more to the plate of biscuits than anything. Potter was running the fingers of one hand over the dark scales encircling his throat, the absent motion eerie in its effect; for reasons Severus could not quite place.

“Everyone expects me to act like them, to think the way they did. I never even knew them, how am I meant to emulate something I have no reference for?”

Severus folded his hands together once more, lest they try and reach across the dark expanse of desk between the two of them. He did not think the boy would appreciate such a gesture at the moment.

“No, I do not suppose you would enjoy the constant reminder.” 

“I'm not _her_.” This was spoken to the jars lining the left wall, a fortunate thing as Severus doubted he was able to completely hide the momentary flicker of utter loss that passed through him.

He tightened his hold on the Occlumency shields, frustrated that this boy could so easily poke holes where none should be.

“Of that I am completely aware, Harry, have no doubt.” That was the third time he had used the child's given name, and it at least had the effect of drawing his eyes back to focusing across the desk, if not actually meeting Severus’ full on.

“I did not draw the comparison for any vicarious reason.” He tried again, “Nor am I ordering you to forgive Mr. Malfoy on insincere grounds. I simply wish you to be aware that he is still very much a naive adolescent, lacking the sort of real experience a truly troubled upbringing instills upon a person. He does not understand yet that actions have consequences, and that he will be held accountable for them. I only ask that if he does approach you, for forgiveness or at the very least an explanation of your reaction, that you listen instead of dismissing the gesture out of hand.”

Potter was silent again, for a few moments, but eventually gave a shallow nod.

“I can't promise anything more than that, though.” A test, Severus thought, pleased the boy was finally trying to push back a little.

“Naturally.”

The silence between them was threatening to grow more awkward, and so Severus gestured at the serpent apparently sleeping across Potter’s shoulders.

“Now perhaps you can explain why your Jax was sending such venomous looks at an innocent plate of biscuits.”

Potter snorted, a thin smile appearing for half a second as he stroked the snake fondly.

“He hates chocolate.”

Severus nodded seriously, which earned another half smile. Then a thought occurred to him and he rose from his seat.

“Wait here a moment.”

~~~~~~~>

Harry watched Snape walk across to a shadowed alcove opposite the entrance to the potions classroom. He laid one pale hand against the stone wall and murmured something too low for Harry to make out. A door melted into existence, made of dark wood with a polished silver knob. Snape disappeared inside and Harry was only able to catch a glimpse of more gray stone before the door shut behind the Potion Master. It must lead to a storage room, or maybe the man's personal quarters.

Harry slumped down in the uncomfortable, stiff backed chair and took up his tea once more. It was cold, so he warmed it with a touch before taking a drink.

He felt better than when he'd arrived at Snape's office, despite the stern lecture he received after explaining his less than optimal emotional state. Or maybe, it was _because_ the man had refused to coddle him; offering possible solutions to the problem instead of empty platitudes.

Harry was still furious at Malfoy, fully intending to institute that cold shoulder. But maybe not for as long as he'd previously planned. _If_ the blonde wised up and tried to show at least a little remorse.

Harry would not lie and say he wasn't feeling a sliver of vicious glee at the thought of how annoyed Malfoy would become when he realized Harry was being serious with about his shunning. He wondered how long it would take the other boy to get over himself enough to see the inherent problem with his actions, and not just the unpleasant side-effects.

Harry had spent far too much of his life surrounded by bullies and refused to tolerate it any longer.

Snape reappeared then, the door melting back into shadowed stone as he closed it behind him. The Potion Master retook his seat and Harry looked up from his empty cup curiously.

The man stared at Harry solemnly for a moment before reaching into his robe and handing over a few slips of paper. Well, Harry had thought they were paper, but they turned out to be photographs.

Three in fact. The first one was of a red headed girl of maybe eleven or twelve, she had a large smile and was waving at the camera enthusiastically, her red and gold striped tie was crooked and she had a pair of startlingly familiar green eyes.

Harry felt something clench in his chest and he looked back up at Snape. The man nodded, the motion jerky and Harry’s fingers tightened on the photos. He quickly loosened his grip, not wanting to wrinkle them.

The next photo, the girl, his _mother_ , looked about thirteen. It was a still image, unlike the first. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a tee-shirt with a triangular prism on it, a beam of light creating a rainbow. Harry vaguely remembered seeing the image on one of Snape’s albums, but could not recall the name. His mother was sitting on a log by a river, there was a large willow tree behind her and she was sticking her tongue out at the camera.

The third and final one was once again moving. She looked a little older, fourteen or fifteen, and was back in Hogwarts robes. She was rolling her eyes and gesturing at someone off camera, hands on her hips, red hair a bit windswept. Eventually another figured shuffled reluctantly into the frame and scowled at the camera. Lily just grinned and threw an arm over the taller boy’s shoulders and pulled him close in a side-hug. The scowl softened momentarily, and Harry looked at what must be a teenage Snape with fascination. He was gangly, hair just as long as it was now, but greasier and a bit lank. His robes were a bit worn down, but the green and silver tie at his neck was fastened with exacting precision. He allowed Lily to position him for the picture, even as he glared and huffed and slouched. But Harry could tell he wasn't actually that upset, apparently so could his mother, as she poked the scowling boy in the side until he managed something of a smile for her.

Then the loop reset and Lily was alone again and gesturing offscreen.

Harry looked up at Snape, he wanted to say something, but his throat was suspiciously tight and he couldn't actually force any words out.

Snape seemed to understand though.

“It occurs to me that you may not have many real keepsakes.” The reasons for which the man kept blessedly silent on, they had no need to rehash Harry's woeful upbringing just then.

“I can't keep these.” He said, startled, trying to hand the photos back. They were Snape's, and obviously important to the man if he kept them all these years, Harry couldn't take that away, no matter how much he wanted to.

Snape just waved a dismissive hand, “Duplication spell.”

“Oh.” Of course, Harry flushed, holding the pictures close again. “Thank you, sir. I-- just, thank you.” The words were quiet and he couldn't quite make himself look back up lest he start _crying_.

“Of course, Mr. Potter.” Snape thankfully pretended that Harry was not currently struggling to get his emotions back under control and went about preparing them both fresh cups of tea.

Harry spent a quiet half hour more in the office, splitting his attention between looking over the photos and listening to Snape's lecture on the process of making moving pictures. What potions were involved and how long to expose each negative for. It was fascinating and just the sort of thing to bring him back down to his normal level of anxiety, instead of feeling like he might burst into a thousand tiny pieces.

Harry mentioned that he had some pictures he wanted to develop, and Snape agreed to let him sit in on a sixth year class in about a month where they would be doing just that.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry said again, as he stood to leave, photos safely tucked away in an inner pocket of his robes.

“Of course.” Snape escorted him to the door, “Now, I believe you have kept your friends waiting long enough. I trust you will think on what we discussed.”

Harry nodded, resisting the urge to shuffle his feet. Snape eyed him but made no further comment before opening the door to his office. To Harry’s surprise, both Blaise and Millicent were leaning against the walls of the corridor and looked as if they'd been there for quite some time. Harry felt a rush of guilt and nearly stumbled as he left the office.

“Alright, Potter?” Millicent asked, looking him up and down as if checking for injuries.

Blaise just gave him a soft smile, one of his rare ones that skirted the line between smirk and concern. Harry felt suddenly overwhelmed with affection for the both of them and hoped they had not been waiting long.

“As much as I enjoy witnessing youthful displays of deep friendship,” Snape deadpanned from behind him, “Do please remove yourselves from my doorway. I believe the lunch hour had started and I have a class to prepare for.”

Harry smirked at the ground, unable to quite hide his amusement, and led the way down the corridor.

“How did you find me?” He asked when they were a decent ways away.

“Wasn't hard.” Blaise said, “I arrived at the common room just in time to catch the tail end of Millicent giving Malfoy an absolutely _scathing_ dressing down. Malfoy looked about ready to wet himself by the end.”

Blaise sent the girl an admiring look, Millicent snorted.

“After which she explained the situation and we went looking for you. When it became obvious you weren't outside or in the library, we decided Snape was probably the most likely. After you spent an entire summer with the man, it stood to reason you might go to him in that kind of situation.”

Harry ducked his head, a little embarrassed about being so predictable.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a bother.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at him, “Seriously? I will treasure that look on Malfoy’s face for years to come.”

The other boy pressed their shoulders together briefly as they walked and Harry felt that warm rush gratitude again.

“I hope you weren't standing there long.”

Blaise shook his head, “Not long, when we saw the door was locked, we knew you had to be in there. It's not locked during office hours unless he's with someone.”

They were nearing the Great Hall, so Harry roused Jax and coaxed him under his robes; the snake grumbled about being disturbed and Harry promised to save him some potatoes for later.

As they went to take their seats, Harry could see Malfoy trying to catch his eye and steadfastly walked right on by to his normal spot. He could hear Millicent muttering something under her breath but decided he really didn't want to know.

Throughout the meal Malfoy continued to shoot glances down the table, but thankfully did not try to say anything to him. Although he was squirming in his seat a bit, looking more and more uncomfortable as time went on.

“Does he have ants down his trousers?” Blaise asked, as the blonde once more wriggled in his spot, face looking more pinched than usual.

“I may have charmed his pants to slowly shrink.” Millicent admitted, voice low enough that only they could hear. Harry gaped at her slightly.

“You didn't...”

She snorted and stabbed at a hunk of meat on her plate, taking a vicious bite.

Malfoy squirmed again. He was starting to look a bit flushed around the collar and had a white-knuckled grip on his fork. Harry would feel bad, or guilty, if he wasn't still so angry with the blonde.

It only took another minute for Malfoy to excuse himself and beat a hasty, if stilted, retreat. Blaise was smirking into his salad and Millicent looked bluntly pleased. 

“As amusing as that was,” and it had been, it _really_ had, “please don't do it again.”

“Git deserved it.” Millicent stated, stabbing at her food again.

“I'm not saying he didn't, I'm just asking you guys not to do anything more. Things like this tend to spiral, and end badly on both sides.” Harry reasoned, “I've decided to just ignore him. If he wants to apologize, he's welcome to try, but I'll not guarantee forgiveness on an empty gesture alone.”

Blaise’s smirk grow wider and he chuckled darkly, “Oh, dear Draco is _not_ going to like that. This should be fun to watch.” He shot Harry a wink. “I'm in, solidarity.”

Harry rolled his eyes but was secretly pleased. Even if Blaise was only doing it for his own amusement, it was still nice to have someone on his side.

They both turned to look at Millicent, who huffed and looked annoyed for about three seconds before pointing her fork at Harry.

“Fine. But no promises that a few rogue bludgers won't find their way towards his pointy nose during practice.” 

Figuring that was the best he was going to get out of the girl, Harry agreed and they finished lunch in relative silence.

~~~~~~~>

Later that day, as they were returning to the common room from the library, Harry was waylaid by a Slytherin first year.

“Potter, I was wondering if I could have a moment?”

The boy was upfront but didn't seem angry, he was eyeing Blaise and Millicent warily though. Harry vaguely remembered him from the welcoming feast, he seemed a good sort then, so he waved his friends on.

“I’ll catch up.”

They left without too much fuss, although Millicent sent the first year a bit of a warning glower, Harry shooed her away again before turning his attention back to the boy.

“It’s Weir, isn't it? Evgeny?”

Weir looked startled that Harry had remembered his name, his expression becoming a little warmer.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He glanced around the corridor, as if to check that it was still empty. “I just wanted to thank you, for what you said to Malfoy.”

Harry raised an eyebrow (definitely not something he had practiced doing during his summer at Spinner’s End, no sir) and Weir flushed a bit, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I was in the common room, studying in the corner, I don’t think anyone noticed me there. I... I was a little worried, when I got sorted into Slytherin.” He looked around again, lowering his voice, “My father’s a Squib, my mum’s a muggle, that’s almost worse than being regular muggleborn to certain types of people.”

Weir said it like it was a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of, and Harry felt a sudden surge of protective fury rush through him. Nobody should be made to feel less because of the circumstances of their birth, something they have zero control over. Harry really wanted to track down Malfoy and punch him right in his prim face.

Instead, he gave Weir a serious look.

“It’s unfortunate, the attitudes people are raised with. But you can’t let that affect you to the point where you let them win. You need to prove you’re just as good, if not better. It’s not fair, and it shouldn’t be that way, but the only way to affect change is to try and do it yourself.” He eyed the younger boy, who was nearly taller than Harry even though he was the older. “I’m not saying you should go around telling people about your parents, in fact that would probably earn you far too much trouble than it’s worth. You were sorted into Slytherin for a reason, use that cunning to turn a perceived disadvantage into a stepping stone.”

Harry didn’t really know where the words were coming from, just that they felt right. He liked the idea of helping others, even if he struggled himself more often than not. Maybe he should switch his green and silver tie to yellow and black. No, he mentally shuddered at being surrounded by so much near constant mushy happiness. He got enough bright smiles and affable behaviour from Finch-Fletchley to last quite long enough, thank you.

Weir nodded at him, looking more grounded.

“Thanks, Potter. I mean it.”

“You can call me Harry, if you want.” The words seemed to fall out of their own volition, but he didn’t try and take them back.

“Evgeny then, as you’ve not managed to butcher it quite as much as my other yearmates.” Evgeny smiled wryly, and didn’t look all too put out about it in any case.

“What is it, Russian?”

“Yes, we moved to London when I was about five, it’s why I don’t have much of an accent.”

“Well, I need to get back to my friends now, before Millicent starts terrorizing any more people today. It was nice to properly meet you.” Harry said, feeling awkward, now that the conversation was winding down.

“Same. Thanks again, for listening.”

Evgeny turned, as if to head back towards the main part of the castle, and Harry called after him as a thought occurred.

“Hey, if you ever do get any trouble for that pureblood nonsense, go to Professor Snape.”

Evgeny eyed him dubiously, “He doesn’t seem the sympathetic sort, even to Slytherins.”

“No, he won’t dish out hugs or fuzzy blankets, but he’ll listen.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’s a half-blood, though I probably wouldn’t spread that around if I were you.”

Evgeny’s eyes widened a bit in understanding and he nodded. “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

Harry walked back to the common room, feeling much better than when he’d left it that morning. When get entered, it was to find that Blaise had actually managed to drag Millicent into a game of chess, Maximus was in her lap batting at a bishop as the tiny piece waved its pointed hat in defence against the giant beast. Harry settled down to watch, Jax slithering out to coil in his lap and demand a thorough petting.

Perhaps things would turn out for the better, or maybe Malfoy would continue to be a huge prat. Only time would tell. For now, Harry would just enjoy the time with his friends.


	11. Chapter 11

Wednesday morning they had potions first thing, and Harry was glad for the distraction. He had spent far too long dodging Malfoy in the common room and then having to avoid Lockhart whilst out in the castle. The man kept trying to get Harry to listen to him ramble on about how great he was and that Harry could be just as famous and well-loved, if only he did exactly as Lockhart suggested. Harry faked having to use the loo enough that it was probably suspicious.

He took a grateful seat at the front of the classroom and began pulling out his notebook and quill in preparation for the lecture.

Then Malfoy had the audacity to sit next to him with a flippant greeting, as if he believed he could just ignore what had happened between them and Harry would go along with it.

“Excuse me, _Heir_ Malfoy.” He said cooly, gathering his things back up and taking his leave of the table.

The room was swiftly filling, nobody in the mood to try Snape's patience. The Slytherin side of things was well paired off already, with the only free spaces the ones at his recently abandoned table and next to Crabbe and Goyle; not even Harry was desperate enough to try that. Blaise and Millicent arrived in time to take the remaining ones at the front, bracketing Malfoy in smoothly. Blaise sent him a nod and a smirk as Harry went to sit beside Neville and Granger. Stoutly ignoring the gaping expressions from the surrounding scarlet clad students.

‘Hullo, Harry.” Neville greeted him with a wide smile and Harry could not help feeling marginally better, despite himself.

“Cheers, Neville.” He nodded at the bushy haired girl on his other side, “Granger.”

“Potter.” She said, friendly enough, pulling out a similar looking notebook to the one Harry had.

Figuring he may as well take the opportunity to build some bridges while he was over here, he pulled his own writing things out once more.

“How many pages does that have?” He asked, getting a hesitantly curious look in response, “Mine goes up to a thousand, but that's just for class stuff. I have a separate one for theory and my own experiments.”

That made the hesitance melt away and Granger happily chatted away the rest of the time before Snape entered about proper note taking and the importance of writing _everything_ down. Something Harry agreed with, though not to the absolute fanaticism Granger displayed. He shared a look with Neville which had the Gryffindor badly faking a coughing fit to hide his laughter.

Snape swept in then, black eyes scanning the room and taking in the scowling look on Malfoy’s face and Harry’s odd placement. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but otherwise didn't react. He began a lecture on Swelling Solutions that lasted nearly the whole hour, spending the last ten minutes viciously questioning everyone on what he'd just said.

“Malfoy! How many rat tails are to be used?”

“Three, sir.” The blonde answered promptly, looking smug.

“Correct.” Snape said slowly, a glint in his eye usually reserved for fumbling Gryffindors. “And why is it that we use rat, instead of mice?”

Harry absently scribbled _renders mistletoe inert_ , tapping the page with the end of his quill as Malfoy lost his smug look.

“I don't believe you covered that in the lecture, Professor.” Malfoy tried, voice edging on nervous, something that had never happened in this class before.

Snape raised an eyebrow, sneer firmly in place.

“Indeed? And I suppose it never occurred to you to research the potions we are to be brewing in this class?”

Before Malfoy could defend himself, Snape had swung around and faced the Gryffindor side of the room.

“Longbottom! Same question.”

Neville jumped beside him. Harry nudged his foot under the table and tapped at his notes again, not looking away from the front of the room. To his credit, Neville did a decent job picking up on what Harry was doing and even managed not to make it completely obvious he was reading the answer out.

“Er, the m-mistletoe, sir. Mouse tail would make it u-useless, wouldn't it?”

Snape nodded sharply, “Very astute, Mr. Longbottom, three points to Gryffindor for bothering to pay attention.”

Malfoy was flushing with embarrassment behind the Potion Master and Harry hid his smirk in his collar. Snape moved on to questioning others and by the end of the hour Harry was feeling much better about his temporary placement. Although he'd make sure to arrive with Blaise and Millicent from then on, the class had not been as horrible as it could have been.

Granger stopped him as they were leaving, a pinched look on her face.

“You shouldn't have done that. It's still cheating, even if Snape was trying to make some sort of weird point.” She was clutching at the strap of her bag, looking torn between her absolute belief in academic integrity and defense of her own House.

And even if Harry was mildly impressed that she had picked up on what Snape had been doing, he was more annoyed in her apparent opinion of Neville.

“What makes you think he didn't already know the answer?” Harry asked in a neutral tone.

Granger huffed and glared, “You _know_ why, don't try and turn this around on me.”

Harry hmm’d and nodded before calling over his shoulder, “Hey, Neville.”

The other boy looked up from where he was walking with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Harry waved him over.

“Yeah?” Neville gave him and Granger a smile.

“Out of curiosity, what else would nullify mistletoe?”

“Oh, ah, Manticore venom, Red Pixie wings, blue violet petals (but not the singing ones), and unicorn horn. Off the, um, top of my...head.” Neville had started out confidently enough, but slowed down at the gobsmacked look gradually taking over Granger’s face.

Harry smirked.

“Thank you, Neville. You've proven my point marvelously.” The boy looked more confused than anything, but shrugged and smiled. Harry turned to Granger, a hardness in his eyes that he did not try overmuch to hide.

“I would advise you to remember just who came in first of the year in Herbology last term. And to realize that just because somebody might be a bit of a nervous public speaker, does _not_ indicate that they don't know the subject.” Harry would not let all hard work he'd put into tutoring Neville go to waste, or let him be disparaged by his own Housemates, however well-meaning they might think they are being. “You should spend less time watching for people breaking arbitrary rules, and more time observing _why_. You're clever enough to pick up on Slytherin politics, but choose to not see beyond the surface of your own inherent bias.”

Granger flushed, looking abashed, “I'm sorry, you're right of course.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “I'm not the one you should be apologizing to.”

She flushed deeper, turning to Neville, “I'm sorry.”

“No worries, Hermione.” The boy said, looking more confused than offended, “Let's get to Transfiguration, though, McGonagall will not be best pleased if we're late.”

“Oh, my gosh! You're right.” And off they went, followed by the rest of the scarlet clad crowd.

Blaise and Millicent walked up to join him as the Slytherins made their way to Charms.

“Well done, Harry. That girl needs taking down a peg or two, every now and then.” Blaise commented, eyeing the retreating Gryffindors.

Harry shrugged, reaching into his bad to give Jax a friendly tickle as they walked, the snake squirmed and licked his fingers.

“She just needs to relax a bit, and take off the blinders that have her seeing any violation of the rules as wrong without looking at the bigger picture.”

“And to not mess with your pet Gryffindor?” Blaise snarked, smoothly dodging Harry’s pointy elbow with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes.

~~~~~~~>

The weeks seemed to flow by after that. The days blurring together a bit until it was already nearing the middle of October.

Malfoy had spent two weeks complaining about the state of his fingernails after Snape set him to scrubbing cauldrons with strict instructions to not use magic.

“As if I’m a bloody house elf.” The blonde moaned to the only people that would listen to him anymore, namely Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson.

Harry would have pointed out that a house elf would just snap their fingers and the things would be sparkling. But that would mean acknowledging Malfoy’s existence, which he still was not doing.

The boy had tried to come to him after about a week, but had been so arrogant and snide in manner that Harry had just looked at him silently until he deflated a bit and slunk away.

Creevey on the other hand, Harry could not seem to shake. The tiny Gryffindor trotted after him whenever possible, seeming to have memorized Harry’s schedule and using that knowledge to pass him by about twenty times a day just to shout out, “Hi, Harry!”

Although, to the boy’s credit, he did not jump out at him anymore, making sure to approach from a highly visible vantage. Which had the unfortunate side-effect of making the kid hard to dodge. Harry had eventually relented and posed for a quick picture, but steadfastly _refused_ to sign it, when the boy had it developed. Picture-Harry looked just about as enthused as actual Harry had been, scowling at the camera and crossing his arms. It sort of reminded him of the photo Snape had given him of his mother and a reluctant teenage Potion Master.

The thought amused him.

Harry just wished he didn't have to try and avoided quite so many people on a daily basis.

Lockhart had thankfully realized his mistake with the Pixies and did not bring any more live creatures to class. They instead spent time listening to him boast and tell dramatic reenactments of his adventures. During these he would pull students forward to help, his favorite victim of course being Harry. Who could only refuse so many times without incurring shiny toothed insistence, on threat of detention.

He and Blaise more often than not spent the class time passing sarcastic notes back and forth in Italian. Millicent mostly snored through the hour.

Jax was growing again, though it couldn't be from over eating Ice Mice, as the serpent hadn't touched the things since they started ignoring Malfoy. It was an odd form of protest, but he couldn't say it was ineffective. As the first time the blonde had tried to sneak the snake one of the wriggling white treats, Jax had hissed at him sharply and slithered away to coil in Blaise’s lap. A move that seemed to upset Malfoy more than if he had just turned his snout up at the candy. Jax had taken Malfoy’s unthinking bigotry as a personal betrayal, being of mixed magical breed himself.

Harry figured, at the rate he was going, Jax would shed again a bit before Christmas. He'd have to make sure they did it in a fireproof environment, as he did not want to set fire to anyone's bed; no matter how much of a prat they were being.

It was as he was walking back from a tutoring session with Neville that he heard the snake.

“ _So hungry... let me feed... let me hunt...let me kill..._ ”

Harry startled, looking around the corridor, Jax raised his head curiously, tasting the air with a forked tongue.

“ _Hello?_ ” He called softly, trying to peer down the dimly lit corridor. “ _Where are you?_ ”

The snake had sounded desperate, starving. Harry knew all too well what that felt like, and wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, let alone a helpless animal.

“ _Please... let... me..._ ” The hissing was fading fast, heading up higher. Maybe there was a secret passage? The poor thing had probably wandered into the school and gotten lost.

“ _Jax? Can you smell them?_ ” He asked, heading for the stairs leading up to the Great Hall. It was late, but Harry didn't want to abandon the snake if he could help it. He'd take the loss of points over life any day 

His serpent bobbed a negative, stretching high on his shoulders and tasting the air again.

“ _Nothing. Not even an older scent._ ”

“ _...feed... blood..._ ” The hissing was so faint now, Harry had to strain hard to catch it as he crossed the empty Hall. It was dark enough to see the stars twinkling above the enchanted ceiling, but the sight gave him none of its usual comfort.

“ _Hello?_ ” He tried again, looking all around, “ _I want to help, I can get you food._ ”

There was no reply.

They spent a fruitless hour sneaking around the castle, dodging prefects, patrolling teachers, and Filch's cat. But to no avail, they didn't hear the voice again or find any trace of a lost snake.

Reluctantly, Harry took them back down to the dungeons.

“ _I hope they're alright._ ” He whispered to Jax as they crept back into their dorm, the other boys were already asleep with curtains drawn.

“ _Maybe they found an exit._ ” Jax suggested hopefully, coiling onto Harry’s pillow while he changed into his night things.

“ _Yeah, maybe..._ ” Harry wanted to believe it. But as he slipped on his headphones to start clearing his mind, he doubted it was true.

~~~~~~~>

Halloween crept up on him with its usual slow dread. Everyone around him seemed excited about the upcoming feast and all the decorations lining the halls. There were even a dozen monstrous pumpkins big enough for a couple full sized people to have a tea party in, if they so chose. 

Malfoy had yet to properly try and apologize, and honestly, if he'd attempted to that day, Harry doubted he'd find himself unable to keep from punching the blonde in the nose. Something he must have picked up on, for he steered clear the whole day.

He had planned to spend the evening alone, maybe take a walk. But Blaise and Millicent refused to leave his side the entire day. No matter the amount of huffing or pointed looks or attempts to slip away unnoticed.

It was oddly warming and Harry stopped trying to escape after the fourth time Millicent grabbed the back of his robes in an iron grip.

Harry did convince them to go on a walkabout, although perhaps it was less his ability to employ pleading puppy eyes and more their exasperation at his jittery nature as the night went on. They circled the dungeons a couple times before making their way towards the upper floors, bypassing the Great Hall completely through use of a secret passage. They wandered by a few empty corridors before coming across a large room fairly packed with ghosts having some sort of party. A few of them even seemed to be playing a game involving tossing heads around like ghoulish, translucent basketballs.

They spied on the party for a while in fascination, before quickly ducking out of sight as the ghost of a girl came screaming by, sobbing loudly as Peeves tossed bits of something out of a bowl at her.

“That was Moaning Myrtle.” Millicent told them as they continued on, “She haunts one of the girl’s toilets, always crying and complaining while you’re trying to use the loo. It’s so annoying.”

“Was she a student here?” Harry asked curiously. He’d never met a teenage ghost before.

Millicent shrugged. “A Ravenclaw, but she died like fifty years ago at least.”

He was about to ask more about it when he heard the snake again.

“ _Let me feed... let me hunt... so hungry..._ ”

Harry stopped in his tracks, head cocked as he scanned the corridor. Jax was lifting up on his shoulders, tasting the air again, like he had last time.

“What is it?” Blaise asked, turning around when he noticed Harry was no longer moving.

“ _Food... blood... need to hunt... let me..._ ”

“ _Hello? Where are you? I want to help._ ” Harry hissed, but once more did not receive any reply. He began heading for the stairs.

“Harry? What’s going on?” Blaise called after him, he could hear their rushed footsteps as they moved to keep up.

“A snake. It sounds hungry, starved. I heard it a few weeks ago, but thought it might have found its way out.” He answered absently, taking the stairs two at a time.

“ _I smell blood... let me kill... let me feed..._ ”

The voice was getting clearer, but still would not reply to any of Harry or Jax’s calls. The snake sounded desperate, he didn’t want it to hurt someone on accident.

They followed the sound of the voice up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor before coming across an expanse of flooded floor. Harry stopped at the edge of the water, straining to hear, but there was nothing. The snake was gone.

Blaise was next to him, sneering at the water, no doubt dreading any of it touching his fancy tailored clothes and shoes.

“Look.” Millicent said, splashing uncaringly forward through the puddle.

Harry followed her. There was a message written across a large swath of stone wall in foot high red letters.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

“Is that Filch's cat?” Millicent pointed to a stiff, scraggly form hanging from a torch bracket next to the message.

“ _Merda._ ” Blaise cursed, having finally joined them, holding his robes up to avoid dipping them in the water. “I think it would be prudent for us to not be here right now.”

“Agreed.” Harry and Millicent said in unison, turning on their heels to head back to the nearest staircase.

But before they had even taken two steps there was the sound of thundering feet coming towards them.

“The feast! It must have just ended.” Harry quickly hid Jax under his robes as they tried to move further away from their very suspicious surroundings.

Too late, a moment later a large group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, no doubt on their way up to their towers, came upon them.

“What with all the water?”

“Is that a cat?!”

“What’s the Chamber of Secrets?”

Voices started ringing out around them as everyone crowded forward to get a better look at what was happening. Only to surge back as one voice cried shrilly above the rest.

“Mrs. Norris! My cat! Someone's murdered my cat!”

Harry, Blaise, and Millicent (who had been trying to sneak away in the confusion), suddenly found themselves at the center of attention as the students pulled back from them on all sides. Filch pushed his way towards them, looking murderous. He pointed a crooked finger straight at Harry.

“You! You've killed my cat! I'll have your head for this!”

Harry shrank back from the man, unable to voice any defense, so taken aback by the absolute fury being aimed at him. The caretaker took another step closer, before a voice sounded from behind them.

“Argus. That is quite enough, I think.” Dumbledore moved forward, the wide-eyed and whispering students making a path for him.

Filch sputtered and protested, but the Headmaster only held up a hand and went to examine the wall, with its hanging cat.

Harry tried to take the opportunity to slip away but was halted by the arrival of Snape at his back.

“A moment, Mr. Potter.” The man murmured, watching Dumbledore peer at the foreboding message and Filch continue to glare and shake with anger.

“Sir, we were just passing by.” Blaise said, standing close enough to him that he could give Harry’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze without anyone noticing.

“Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Zabini. Still, the Headmaster will most likely wish to confirm such.”

Harry relaxed a little, his racing heart slowing to a manageable rate rather than feeling as if it were about to burst from his chest and join all the water on the floor.

“They've killed Mrs. Norris. I demand retribution!”

“ _Argus_.” Dumbledore cut in firmly, not looking up from where he was poking at said cat with his wand. “Mrs. Norris is not dead, merely petrified. Though by what means, I can not yet decipher.”

The man sounded more curious than concerned, and Harry felt a surprise note of sympathy for the unfriendly caretaker. Although not too much, seeing as how Filch seemed hell bent on blaming him, just because they happened to come across the message first.

And what was the Chamber of Secrets, anyway? Who what this Heir?

There were no shortage of pureblood Heirs running around the school, Harry being one of them; even though he was the last of his line.

“I think that is enough gawping from the lot of you. Off to bed now, shoo.” McGonagall had arrived, taking initiative in sending away all the superfluous bodies. Harry once more tried a bid for freedom, but Snape set a firm hand on his shoulder, putting a stop to that.

When the last of the reluctant crowd dispersed under McGonagall’s stern gaze, she set about clearing away all the water.

Dumbledore finally turned to them, having carefully removed Mrs. Norris from her bracket. The cat looked stiff and far too still. Harry couldn't blame Filch for thinking her dead.

“Now, Argus, why don't you bring Mrs. Norris up to the hospital wing. I'm sure we can figure out how to cure her in no time at all.”

Filch cradled the still cat like a baby, his angry eyes suspiciously wet.

“And what of the party responsible?” The man glared over at the three of them and Harry did his best to smooth over his features, though he doubted he did as good a job of it as Blaise. Millicent just looked bored.

“As soon as we determine them, fear not that the punishment will be just.”

“Determine them?! They are standing right bloody there, like the smug snakes they are.”

“Mr. Filch.” Snape said coolly, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on Harry’s shoulder. “What evidence do you have of these children’s guilt? It would take a powerful Dark magic to do what has been done here. One that I guarantee three _twelve_ year olds do not possess.”

The words were spoken with a sneer, making it apparent what the Potion Master thought of Filch's accusations. The caretaker sputtered and glared some more, but eventually let himself be led away to the hospital wing by McGonagall.

“Now,” The Headmaster twinkled at them, affecting a vague smile. “I must ask, what were you three doing so far away from the feast? And if you did indeed see anything more about this incident?”

Harry had to take a second to calm himself, it would not do to be too unnecessarily disdainful of the man; no matter how much he wished.

“We were taking a walk.” He said eventually, proud that his voice hadn't shook. “We didn't see anything else. We’d barely been here half a minute before everyone else showed up.”

Dumbledore nodded, “I thought as much. Why though, were you three not at the feast?”

“I apologize if my absence caused any undue worry, I find it hard to celebrate the night my parents were _murdered_.” Harry could not quite keep the snark from his voice. Snape tightened his fingers again, but Harry did not think it in rebuke. “Blaise and Millicent kindly offered to keep me company.”

The Headmaster lost a bit of the twinkle in his eye, face becoming more grim.

“Ah. Quite understandable, my boy. Those are some very loyal friends you have there.” It did not sound like a compliment, Harry got the feeling Dumbledore disapproved of the company he kept. It was a good thing then, that Harry care very little for the man's opinion.

“If that is all, Headmaster, I should escort my students to their dormitories. If they wish to have any sleep at all before classes.”

“Oh, dear me, yes Severus. By all means.” And with that, Dumbledore turned back to the message written along the wall, one wrinkled hand stroking his long beard.

Snape swept them away at an efficient pace, for which Harry was glad. He wanted to be as far away from that corridor as possible.

They did not, however, go straight to the dorms. Snape led them to his office, where he sat them all down in the familiar, stiff backed chairs. He did not sit himself, instead choosing to stand before them with folded arms and a stern look.

“Is what you told the Headmaster truth?” He asked plainly, eyeing all of them separately.

“Yes, sir.” Blaise said promptly. Snape narrowed his gaze at him.

“Let me rephrase. Was it the _full_ truth?”

Blaise hesitated too long and Snape's black eyes narrowed further.

“It's fine,” Harry murmured, nudging his friend’s knee with his own, “You can tell him.”

As much as he appreciated the boy’s solidarity, he did not want any of them getting in more trouble than they needed. Snape would probably understand when he heard the rest.

“We were trying to find a snake, sir.” Blaise started. Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Harry heard it, he said it sounded like it was in distress, we only wanted to help it.”

“A snake?” Snape confirmed, voice edging on incredulous. “And did you find this serpent?”

“No, sir.” Harry answered, taking over. “But I don't think it's gone. I heard it calling out a few weeks ago, and couldn't find it then either.”

Snape sighed, pinching his nose.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Zabini. You are not to go wandering the corridors so late, not even to help some wild animal that may have found its way in here.”

“Yes, sir.” They chorused, Snape scowled.

“You two, wait outside a moment while I have a word with Mr. Potter.”

Blaise and Millicent reluctantly stood and Harry waved them away, it would be fine.

When the door closed behind them, Snape dropped his scowl, expression smoothing out to something more neutral.

“Mr. Potter, I trust that you have kept up with your Occlumency?”

That was not what Harry had been expecting him to ask, but he nodded nonetheless. It made a huge difference, being able to sleep so much more than last year.

“Every night.”

“Excellent. The skill is useless if not practiced regularly.” Snape strode over to one of the cabinets lining the walls, deactivating the ward before opening it to retrieve a familiar looking bottle.

“Take this, you need not use it. But if you find you are having a more difficult time than not clearing your mind tonight, it is better to have the option. You remember the dosage restrictions?”

Harry pocketed the bottle of Dreamless Sleep, he hadn't needed to use any for months.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

They did not speak of why Harry might need it that night, of all nights. He did wonder if the Potion Master ever utilized the brew himself, or if he had moved on far enough from the loss that Occlumency alone was enough. Snape was far more skilled in Mind magic and had had far more time to heal. Although Harry somehow doubted the man had taken the proper time to do so.

Snape escorted them to the common room, where he warned them off once more against any foolhardy wanderings. As soon as the entrance melted back into gray stone, Harry turned to the other two.

“So, what's the Chamber of Secrets and which Heir are we supposed to be wary of?” He wondered if this was plot Dobby the crazy house elf had tried to warn him about.

Blaise and Millicent glanced at each other and shrugged.

“I've heard the name before,” Millicent admitted, “but I've no idea what it is.”

“Research then?”

They nodded.

Blaise yawned, “Sleep first, though.”

Harry rolled his eyes but agreed. He fingered the bottle of Dreamless Sleep in his pocket as they separated from Millicent. It would probably not be a terrible idea to take a dose, he'd be up all night otherwise.

~~~~~~~>

The next day, all anyone could talk about was the message on the wall and the petrification of Mrs. Norris. Harry had wisely skipped breakfast in the Great Hall, dipping into his trunk stores instead of spending a meal dodging questions. As if he knew anything more than them. Blaise had joined him in dining in front of the common room fire, delicately picking apart one of the flaky pastries Harry’d gotten from the boy for his birthday. Millicent had just rolled her eyes at them and went up to the Great Hall with the rest of their House. Although Harry doubted anyone would find the intimidating girl approachable enough to question. Which she probably knew full well.

He and Blaise spent the breakfast hour pouring over Harry’s battered copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. Finding little more than a brief mention of a hidden Chamber in the section about secret passageways and other architecture pertaining to the castle. The book only said there were rumors of a fabled Chamber, left by Salazar Slytherin himself, but that no one had ever been able to find even a trace of it.

It didn't go into any further detail, only saying that most figured it for just a story.

“Slytherin?” Blaise questioned, flipping through the next few pages as if that might turn up answers, but there really was nothing else. “So it's his Heir? I thought the Slytherin line died out centuries ago.”

“Maybe, maybe not. The founding of the school was so long ago, there _has_ to be a least a couple people with few drops of Founder blood. The wizarding community is far too entangled for there not to be.”

“Yes, but magical Heirs are different. There needs to be a substantial connection to claim something like this.”

Harry pondered a moment, feeding Jax a bit of cold potato. The snake snapped it up happily.

“Wait here a moment, I think I have some genealogy books in my trunk. We can try and find something. And I'm sure the library has even more, or we could owl order.”

They ended up having to run to Charms, so they wouldn't be late, so distracted by tracing family lines back as far as they could. Harry’s books hadn't helped much, but it turned out one of the common room’s bookcases was completely devoted to genealogy. They had started combing through the older tomes and lost track of time. Only the arrival of a group of seventh years loudly complaining about the unwieldy about of N.E.W.T. work they needed to do before the holidays had alerted them to how much time had passed.

Millicent had snorted at them when they skidded into the room with barely a moment to spare, but had saved their seats nonetheless.

They gave her a quick rundown on what they'd found out, little as it was, in hushed whispers as Flitwick demonstrated how to enchant a variety of materials to exhibit different scents.

Harry managed to make his cotton cloth smell vaguely of bananas. Which was better than his first attempt, a block of wood giving off an unsettling cloying smoke. Blaise ended up with a sheaf of spicy parchment, they reminded Harry of an expensive cologne he'd smelled once in a department store and he wouldn't be surprised if the boy ended up using the papers. Millicent, of course, had managed a wide range of different things; earning a few points for Slytherin.

Harry couldn't avoid lunch with the rest of the school, but luckily it seemed everyone had figured out that it was Slytherin’s Chamber. Thanks to Granger questioning Binns and actually getting a more comprehensive rundown than what Harry had so far uncovered. So at least he was not the only one at the table being eyed by the rest of the students.

When he heard the full story from Neville later that day, he doubted it was completely valid. It seemed like a lot of hearsay and blurred lines. Salazar Slytherin hated muggleborns and half-bloods? So much so that he abandoned the school, leaving behind some mysterious monster and vowing revenge?

If any of it were even remotely true, it must have been obscured and contorted by the years. Slytherin had probably left the school for a legitimate reason lost to time. If he had really despised children not born of pure heritage, there would never be any half-bloods or otherwise in his House. History was often just that, a story. And stories needed villains.

It would bear looking into at least. Harry did not like taking things at face value.

Nobody seemed overly concerned about the fate of Mrs. Norris, other than a few comments he heard (mostly from upper years) happy not to have the cat spying on their late night rendezvous. And Lockhart loudly proclaiming that it was too bad he had not been there, as he knew the exact countercurse that would have saved her.

It seemed a bit heartless to Harry. Even if she and Filch were ruthless in their patrolling and took great pleasure in giving out detentions for even the slightest infractions. Mrs. Norris was still a living being, and her master was no doubt beside himself with worry.

Harry had seen the man pacing back and forth in front in front of the scene, scaring curious students away and looking more rundown and frazzled than usual.

He and Blaise spent the next week pouring over various genealogy books and researching everything they could about magically hidden spaces. It was equal parts fascinating and frustrating. Harry wanted to look further into the theory behind the different methods of magical building, what materials were best, where exactly one needed to place a keystone to maximize the efficiency of long term wards. How even the foundation’s depth and shape played significant roles in the overall stability of the magic focused within.

Still, they did not find much mention of the Chamber. It was almost a suspicious lack of information. For so seemingly well known a tale, there wasn't any written record of such a thing existing except for brief side notes in exceedingly dry history books. You'd think a mystery about one of the Founders would merit more than a passing glance.

Blaise had agreed, and they started thinking about where they could source other information from. Harry got the feeling that as vast as the Hogwarts library was, it had also been combed through and censored about certain topics. He'd heard sneering whispers from the upper year Slytherins about the lack of information on Darker magics, and even some of the more Gray leanings.

It was idiotic. How were they expected to protect themselves from something they knew nothing about? And just because something was labeled _Dark_ , did not necessarily mean it was automatically evil. Blood Magic, for example, was used to heal and protect a lot more than people probably realized. Harry himself was testament to that. But since it was considered Dark, nobody really liked to acknowledge it.

The point being, they might need to outsource a few books, they just needed to find a reputable shop. He doubted Flourish and Blotts would carry what he was looking for.

Millicent tried to help them, but was distracted by the extra Quidditch practices Flint had been scheduling in preparation for the upcoming match against Gryffindor. Which had the added benefit of keeping Malfoy out of his hair for a while as well.

The blonde had latched onto the idea of their House Founder being a blood purist with an almost thoughtless insistence. And Harry could only hold himself back so much before he was forced to confront the other boy again. He had the suspicion that was Malfoy’s point all along, as he had not been taking being ignored very well.

The morning of the Quidditch match was chilly and bright, Harry made sure to warm up his clothes so Jax wouldn't freeze too much while out in the stands. He and Blaise had walked Millicent to the Slytherin changing rooms, wishing her good luck before heading to their seats. She hadn't seemed too nervous about her first match, but Harry knew the girl was capable of pushing down a great deal of discomfort to put up a bored front.

“Hi, Harry!” A voice squeaked from across the lawn, Colin Creevey broke off from a group of Gryffindors first years to trot over; his oversized camera swinging dangerously about his tiny neck. “Are you excited about the game? I've never seen a Quidditch match before! I’m gonna take lots of pictures.”

He leaned forward a little and whispered conspiratorially, “I'm rooting for Slytherin, don't tell anyone.”

Harry did not even have to look over at Blaise to know the boy was smirking. Harry gave Creevey a nod, affecting as serious a tone as he could manage while trying not to laugh.

“Our little secret then, you best get back to your friends though, or they might start to suspect.”

Creevey’s eyes widened dramatically and he scuttled away. Blaise managed to keep his chuckles in until they reached their seats.

Harry knocked their shoulders together and settled in to watch the teams fly out.

The Slytherins were easily outstripping the Gryffindors with their top of the line brooms, but the Gryffindor Chasers were a well oiled machine and seemed to flow in and out of one another with a fluidity and grace that Flint and the others could just not seem to match.

Flint apparently knew this quite well, because his strategy seemed to solely consist of gaining control of the Quaffle and out running the scarlet and gold flyers, passing it swiftly back and forth along the pitch. The Weasley twins were putting in a ferocious offense with the Bludgers, seemingly able to just _know_ where one of the opposing Chasers were going to be and neatly knocking them about.

Millicent was putting up a strong defense, her strikes vicious and precise. She darted around the pitch, coordinating with the other Beater well, if not to the near telepathic levels of the twins.

“Wow, remind me never to get on dear Millicent’s bad side.” Blaise said after a particularly brutal hit left one of the Gryffindor Chasers with a bloodied hand and no Quaffle.

Theo nodded from beside them, “I've five galleons down that someone leaves today with a broken nose.”

Harry smirked, “Not limiting yourself to the lions?”

The other boy laughed, “I've seen the glares she been sending Malfoy the last month.”

Harry fished in his pocket, flipping a few coins over to Theo. “Three on someone ending up in the hospital wing.”

Theo winked and pocketed the money.

It was an exciting match up until the point where a Bludger decided it wanted to kill him. The first time it came at him could be written off as a bad shot. Millicent had swooped down in front of the stands where they were sitting and battered the thing away before it even got close. But the second and third times? No, there was something off about the ball. It would be hit towards the opposite end of the field and stop midway, reversing course and aiming right for the Slytherin stands again.

Millicent took to hovering above them like a furious sentry, cursing every time the thing came right back.

They managed to call a timeout and Harry took the opportunity to try and leave the stands. Whatever was happening, he did not want to end up on the other end of a rogue bludger. Madam Hooch had apparently found nothing wrong with it and play resumed as he and Blaise sidled there way along.

“Harry, watch out!” Blaise called, tugging on the back of his cloak and pulling him out of the path of the Bludger just in time. It smashed through the thankfully empty seats before them, sending splinters of wood flying.

“Sorry!” Millicent shouted, waving her bat, “It darted around me!”

“Let's get out of here!” Harry shouted above the screams and yells of the surrounding students.

He could see Snape standing up in the teacher’s box and made the quick decision that if anyone could stop a crazy Bludger, it would be Snape.

He hissed at Jax to stay low, feeling the snake slide down to coil around one of his legs. Harry ducked just in time as the ball came around once more, buzzing so close to his ear that he felt his hair ruffle.

“Merlin’s pants, what hell is wrong with that thing?!” He heard someone shout, Harry would like an answer to that as well.

A quick glance ahead showed Snape striding towards them, wand in hand, a few other teachers right on his heels. Harry felt a rush of relief.

_CRACK!_

“Ahh!” White hot pain lanced through his arm and Harry dropped to the wooden floor, swallowing back another scream. Screaming never made the pain stop.

“ _Jax?_ ” He hissed through gritted teeth, the serpent constricted against his leg, and Harry huffed out a breath.

“Mr. Potter, _Harry_.” A voice said from above him, sounding angry and worried in equal measure.

He pried his eyes open, pain and anger were never a good combination.

Snape’s scowling face swam above him and Harry tried to blink away the tears blurring his vision.

“Sir?”

Snape’s scowl deepened, and he shook his head, long hair a curtain on either side of his pale face.

“Be still, I must assess the damage.”

“Allow me, Severus, I'm a deft hand at field medicine you know. I once delivered triplets in a rainstorm, whilst hiding from a pack of bloodthirsty vampires.” Lockhart’s grinning face appeared next to Snape's and Harry quickly shook his head.

“No, no, don't touch me.” Harry tried to scrabble back but his broken arm wouldn't let him move more than an inch.

Lockhart winked at him, “Now just hold still, Harry my lad, I'll fix you up in just a tic!”

And before Snape or Harry could do anything, Lockhart had twirled his wand, muttered a string of nonsense syllables, and sent a bright flash of yellow light at Harry’s arm.

The pain vanished... but apparently so had all the bones in the limb.

“What...?” Harry tried to lift his arm and couldn't, the thing flopping over like it was made of rubber.

He glared up at Lockhart, still grinning, if a bit nervously, “Ah, that can happen sometimes. Hold still now, I know just the spell--”

“If you do not lower your wand this instant, I will have no choice but to _force_ you.” Snape growled, and Harry was mildly surprised that Lockhart did not burst into flames right then and there. 

The man did finally show a hint of self preservation and stowed his wand, although he was still grinning with far too many teeth.

“Mr. Potter, let me see your arm.” Harry managed a shaky nod and allowed the Potion Master to inspect his newly jiggly appendage.

Snape ran his wand swiftly along the length of his arm, watching for some sort of reaction and apparently getting it; as he lowered it again.

“I believe a trip to the hospital wing is in order.” Snape murmured, helping Harry to his feet.

He felt oddly lopsided and had to hold onto his sleeve to stop his arm from flopping about like a wet noodle.

“The Bludger?” He asked, if only to distract himself from all the starring surrounding them as they started towards the castle.

“In about three dozen pieces scattered across the pitch.”

“Oh, good.”

“Indeed.”

At one point as they were crossing the grounds, Snape glared behind them at the trailing crowd, successfully cowling them all with a single look and making it so they were not followed all the way to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey tutted at him, and when Snape explained exactly _why_ he was sans so many bones, she gave a huff and a scowl worthy of the Potion Master. Harry was glad that last part wasn’t directed at him.

“That man is a menace. As if I don't have enough to contend with without him going about disappearing children’s bones.” She bustled over to a large cabinet and came back with a potion, handing it to him. “Skele-Gro, it won't be pleasant, but you'll be right as rain by the morning.”

Harry shot a quick glance at Snape, who gave him a nod, so he did as bade. It burned going down, clinging to his throat like bits of glass before settling heavily in his stomach. Harry tried to hold in his grimace, but Madam Pomfrey seemed to see right through it.

“I did warn you. Now, I'll be needing you to stay here overnight.” She held up a hand, forestalling any protest, “No, Mr. Potter, I must insist. Regrowing bones is no easy matter, and I'll not have you risking complications just so you can sleep in your dorm.”

Not even a pleading look at Snape helped, as the Potion Master just shook his head firmly. Harry slumped back in the hospital bed and sighed.

“There's a good lad, now I believe you have a few visitors.”

Harry looked to the door in surprise to find not only Blaise and Millicent, but Neville and Theo as well. Millicent was still in her green and silver Quidditch robes, though she'd left her bat behind.

Madam Pomfrey let them in with strict instructions not to make a racket or to get her patient too excited.

Harry was too startled by the sight of so many people come to wish him well that he couldn't hold back a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Snape excused himself with a final stern look and Harry knew there would be no getting around the forced bed rest.

“Hey, guys.” He greeted the small crowd, they looked at him with various states of worry.

Millicent seemed to be trying her damnedest to bite her own lip off and was glaring at the bedsheets as if she wanted to set them aflame.

“I should have stopped it, I should have been faster.”

Harry felt a rush of guilt and reached for her with his good arm, managing to catch a sleeve.

“No. Don't think like that. You kept that thing away from us for longer than most would have managed.” He tried to shrug, but doubted it came across well, “I'm fine, I've had worse.”

That was probably not the best thing to say, as it just made everyone's faces that much grimmer, Neville looked on the verge of _tears_. Harry sighed.

“Look at it this way,” He tried, “I plan on writing my lawyer as soon as my hand gets back its fingers, Lockhart won't know what hit him.”

That got the Slytherins back to smirking and even Neville managed a weak smile.

Theo dropped a neat stack of gold coins onto his bedside table with a wink, “I'd accuse you of fixing the odds, but I doubt having to take that much Skele-Gro is worth the payout.”

Harry rolled his eyes and that seemed to break the tension a bit. The others dragged over a few chairs so the could stop hovering and Jax finally crawled out of his hiding place to coil snugly in Harry’s lap (under the blanket, in case Madam Pomfrey showed back up).

They talked for a while, trying to figure out who could possibly enchant school equipment so well that even Hooch hadn't been able to find anything wrong. Harry couldn't really think of anyone that hated him _that_ much and also possessed enough power to pull something like this off. Well, he _could_ , but Harry doubted Voldemort was anywhere near the school, with Quirrell dead. And even if he were, Harry thought the Dark Lord would have a more elegant plan than just sending a Bludger at him.

“Oh, and Slytherin won, by the way.” Neville mentioned, “Malfoy managed to catch the Snitch right before Snape blew that Bludger to smithereens, but everyone was so distracted by then that nobody cared.”

That got a quiet laugh out of Theo and a particularly smug smirk from Blaise. Harry guessed that was almost worth a Bludger to the arm. Almost.

Madam Pomfrey soon reappeared to shoo everyone out, Blaise promised to come back with some books after dinner, which Harry was grateful for.

His arm burned with a steady needling, as if he'd fallen asleep on it, only slightly worse. It was amazing that a potion could regrow bones overnight, and Harry kind of really wanted to pick apart the recipe to figure out _how_ , but he still wished it was not quite so irritating an experience.

Jax distracted him by explaining in great detail just how many times and in what areas he was going to bite whoever had sent that Bludger after them. Harry stroked his little wedge head fondly.

Blaise did indeed bring him up some things, even going so far as to grab Harry’s walkman, for which he made sure to thank him. He had the feeling he'd need it that night if he wanted to get past the pain of his bones reforming.

Madam Pomfrey didn't let Blaise stay long however, so Harry settled back with one of the architecture books and set to reading. For as long as the mediwitch would allow him at least, he doubted he'd be able to stay up past curfew, at least, not without being sneaky about it.

The hospital wing was a quiet, open space. With a few big windows lining the opposite wall so that Harry could see the stars as time moved on. It was kind of a nice view, but Harry thought he prefered the dungeons and it's underwater vantage of the Black Lake. Where he could watch fish and other things, swim about. And where the sun was not so harsh as it shone down through the water.

It was late when the house elf appeared next to his bed with a soft _crack_. Harry startled and slammed his book closed. He'd been silently reading it beneath the covers with a conjured light, keeping an ear out for any hint of Madam Pomfrey doing a walk through. Jax hissed and lunged for the elf, who squeaked and Apparated to the other side of the bed.

Harry grabbed the snake before he could make a second attempt and glared at the elf, taking in its overlarge eyes and ratty pillowcase.

Dobby, the crazy house elf.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded quietly, stoking Jax’s head and neck to try and calm him down, the elf eyed the serpent warily before turning his pleading gaze up to Harry.

“Dobby is being sorry Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is only trying to help.”

A sneaking suspicion was forming and Harry glared at the elf.

“Help how, Dobby?”

The elf looked away, clasping his hands behind his back and scuffing a bare foot along the floor stones.

“Dobby is only trying to keep Mr. Harry Potter safe. If Mr. Harry Potter had not lied to Dobby, he would not have been forced to... ah...”

Dobby took a few prudent steps back as Harry let out an angry growl, he was tempted to let Jax have his way, but kept the impulse in; even as his half healed arm twinged painfully.

“What,” He said instead, spitting out each word in as precise and deadly a tone as he could manage. “Did you think sending me to the hospital wing would accomplish?”

Dobby looked up at him with wet eyes, hands tugging nervously on his filthy pillowcase.

“Dobby thought, that if Mr. Harry Potter were hurt badly enough, sirs, that Mr. Harry Potter would goes home and be safe from the plottings. Dobby only wishes to protect Mr. Harry Potter.”

“Why?”

“Because, sirs, when the wonderful Harry Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the lives of all house elves improved greatly. Yous do not know how terrible it was being, before, Dobby is only wanting to thank and protect the saviour. If the Great Harry Potter was to be going home, he would be out of danger.”

Harry huffed, annoyed and embarrassed to be thought of as anyone’s _saviour_. He leveled Dobby with an unimpressed stare.

“Did it occur to you, Dobby, that I do not _have_ a home?”

The house elf drooped, looking hurt and betrayed on Harry’s behalf.

“ _What’s happening? What’s the crazy thing doing here?_ ” Jax hissed, glaring at Dobby from his protective position, poised to strike again at a moment's notice.

Harry reaffirmed his grip on the snake before answering, “ _He’s the one that sent the Bludger after us, in some misguided attempt at protection. You are_ not _to bite him._ ” Jax hissed angrily, cursing a blue streak at the elf and puffing himself up in a threatening manner, but not actually attempting to lunge again. For which Harry was grateful, he could hardly manage to hold his friend back with one hand, if he were extremely motivated to escape.

Dobby’s eyes widened impossibly further.

“Please, Great and Merciful Harry Potter, don’t be feeding Dobby to the snake. Dobby is being sorry. Dobby is only wanting to help.”

Harry sighed, resisting the urge to bang his head against the stone wall behind him.

“Dobby, quiet down or you’ll wake up Madam Pomfrey.” The elf snapped his mouth shut. “Now, even though you tried to main me, I will not feed you to my familiar,” he glared, “ _this_ time.” As if Jax could even come close to doing so...

Dobby nodded frantically, bat-like ears flapping about his head.

“I want you to stop trying to get me to leave Hogwarts. I know you think there is some great danger, and with what happened here on Halloween, I’m inclined to believe you. But you need to understand that there is no other place for me to go.” Not strictly true, if forced, Harry could acquire room and board _somewhere_ ; but the elf did not need to know that. “You remember that I was with Professor Snape when I visited Malfoy Manor?”

Dobby nodded hesitantly, “Professor Severus Snape is being an old friend of my Master.”

“Right, well I’ve been staying with him. So I can’t very well leave while he has his teaching duties.” Harry held up a quick hand, “I would not suggest trying anything to get him to leave, he is not as forgiving as me.”

Dobby shook his head again, “Dobby _knows_ , Mr. Harry Potter.” It was said with a weight and meaning that Harry could not parse, but before he could ask there was the sound of footsteps coming up the corridor.

“Dobby needs to be goings now, he promises to stop trying to get Harry Potter to leave, but won’t stop protecting him, sir.” and with that, the house elf Disapparated with a final quiet _crack_.

Harry quickly laid down in the bed, Jax slithering under the coverings just as the door to the hospital wing opened and Dumbledore came through. Followed by Professor McGonagall and what looked to be a floating statue that she levitated onto one of the beds.

“I’ll go wake Poppy.” McGonagall whispered, hurrying past Harry’s prone form to the door on the opposite end of the room.

Harry squinted at the other bed, barely holding in a gasp when he realized it was not a statue but a _student_. They must have been petrified, just like Mrs. Norris. McGonagall came bustling back, Madam Pomfrey on her heels.

“What’s happened, Albus?” The mediwitch asked, bending over the boy and running her wand up and down his body.

“There has been another attack, I found Mr. Creevey whilst on my way down to the kitchens for a hot chocolate. I suspect he was sneaking out to pay Mr. Potter a visit.”

Harry bit back a sigh, it was not his fault, but he could not help feeling guilty anyway.

“Is that the boy’s camera?” McGonagall asked, “Perhaps he got a photo of his attacker.”

Dumbledore gently pried the device from Creevey’s frozen finger and opened the back, black acrid smoke filled the room. No way any film survived that.

“What does this mean?”

“It means, Minerva, that the Chamber has indeed been opened once more.”


	12. Chapter 12

Harry did not get much sleep that night. Between the twinging in his arm and the confirmation that not only was the Chamber of Secrets real, but that it had been opened _before_ ; well, it was a lot to think on. Harry laid there quietly, in an Occlumency induced haze, as he sorted through the information and stared at the curtains Madam Pomfrey had pulled around Creevey’s bed.

He'd snuck across the stone floor, after all the adults had left, and taken a closer peek at the first year. Creevey was frozen in an awkward position, face a rictus of shock and arms held up as if to shield himself with the absent camera. He was surprisingly warm to the touch though, which made Harry feel marginally better. It was much easier to believe the tiny Gryffindor wasn't just laying there dead when he could still feel the life coming off him.

He wondered if Creevey’s eyes would dry out, being stuck open like that. Or if the petrification protected him from things like that and dehydration, starvation. How was Creevey supposed to keep from wasting away? Harry had retreated to his bed, regretting his trip across the room.

He could feel the panic start to creep in and had quickly started his breathing exercises and slipped on his headphones. The gentle sounds of tinkling piano lulled him into a calm enough state to sink into the numbness of Occlumency and push the burgeoning panic attack away.

When he took a moment to think logically, instead of emotionally, Harry realized that either Madam Pomfrey had a system in place to sustain the boy or the petrification itself would do so. Else Filch's cat would be long dead by now. And as the curmudgeonly caretaker had not seemed more distraught than usual, he could only assume Mrs. Norris was doing just fine; considering the circumstances.

He turned his thoughts to the other problem at hand: what could cause such long lasting petrification? What kind of creature had an effect like that? Maybe they had been going about this the wrong way. Perhaps if they figured out what sort of monster was supposed to be terrorizing the school, that would lead them to more answers. Or at least give people a better chance at protecting themselves.

By the time weak rays of sunlight started streaming in through the multitude of windows, Harry was itching to get to the library. Madam Pomfrey thankfully released him from the infirmary after a careful examination of his arm. It was still a bit tender but not longer imitating a wet noodle, so she allowed him to go down to his dorms so that he could change and have breakfast in the Great Hall with the rest of the students.

He hadn’t asked about the curtained off bed and she hadn't volunteered any information. Harry doubted she would have even if he did, so he hadn't bothered wasting valuable time.

He caught Blaise and Millicent in the common room just as they were about to head up, and they agreed to wait for him. Harry swiftly changed out if his day old clothes and rejoined them, Jax making himself comfortable under Harry’s robes. The snake had been extra clingy since the excitement the day before, and Harry could not say he felt any different, taking comfort from the solid weight of his friend.

He gave Blaise and Millicent a hushed rundown of what he'd seen as they walked up to breakfast.

“Creevey, you said? That little Gryffindor that's always following you around?” Blaise asked, cocking an eyebrow. Harry nodded.

“That's not good, kid's a muggleborn.” Millicent chipped in, with only a slight grumpiness to her features; a vast improvement over how she and Blaise had reacted towards Finch-Fletchley when he'd imposed himself on their study group last year and never left.

Harry knew a lot of the purebloods around school thought about things in the same idiotic way that Malfoy did, even if they didn't go spouting it about. And Harry was glad that his friends had been able to see past that learned behavior, and not immediately dismiss whole swaths of people because of what they'd been taught as children.

Harry nodded in agreement. It was bad enough a student, a _first_ year, had been attacked. But the simple fact of his blood status made this about a hundred times more complicated. Harry foresaw a lot of added suspicion about to be thrown Slytherins’ way, and probably not a few curses.

They joined the rest of their House at the long table, a few of them even sending well wishes down at Harry. Not something he had expected, but it warmed him all the same. Looking over at the Gryffindor table, the students there seemed various shades of grim and solemn, not even the Weasley twins were smiling. McGonagall must have informed her House that morning before anyone left. The other students in the hall seemed to pick up on the mood, frantic whispers washing through the room.

The Headmaster seemed to take that as a cue and stood from his spot at the center of the teacher’s table. He raised one hand and the hall quieted, Harry could grudgingly respect that.

“Students. As you no doubt may have heard, it is my sad duty to inform you that one of our own has been attacked. Mr. Colin Creevey of Gryffindor was petrified late last night.”

The hall burst into cries and whispers anew, Dumbledore allowed it for a moment before he raised his hand again.

“It is for this reason, that we will be strictly enforcing a curfew of seven o’clock for _all_ students, no matter their year or age.” A few annoyed faces popped up, but most seemed more scared than anything. “You are not to wander the halls alone at any time of the day, for your own safety. Those taking Astronomy will be escorted by their Head of House to and from each class.”

“Will Colin be alright?” A voice shouted from Gryffindor, Dumbledore sent them what Harry supposed was meant to be a sympathetic smile, but seemed more patronising than anything.

“Rest assured that Mr. Creevey is receiving the best medical care we can provide, and Professor Sprout informs me that she has an excellent bunch of mandrakes maturing in the greenhouses. As soon as they are ready to harvest, we shall have restorative draughts brewed for Mr. Creevey and Mrs. Norris in no time.”

The students clapped, looking relieved, but Harry could only stare. Why in Merlin’s name would Dumbledore wait _months_ for Sprout’s mandrakes to grow, instead of just ordering some from an apothecary? Yes, they could be difficult to transport, but not nearly so impossible that a child show lay suffering for close to half a year.

Politics.

Harry could feel the anger simmering under his skin.

It was obvious that Dumbledore did not want word getting out that the students under his watch were in danger or being actively targeted. He wanted to keep things quiet. By reassuring the rest of the school that he had things well in hand, that there were measures being put in place, it would slow the rise of panic.

Which was good up until the point where it threw away the life of the victims. Would Creevey be made to do over his entire year? Or just pushed forward with the rest of his age group, despite the missing months of base education? What if there were more attacks? How many petrified children did there have to be for Dumbledore to actually _act_ towards the protection of this school?

Harry pushed his bowl of plain oatmeal away, what little appetite he'd managed completely gone. Blaise gave him a look but Harry just shook his head sharply. Not at the table, where anyone could hear. He did not trust himself to not start shouting.

He glanced up at the teacher’s table to see Snape was taking his leave, Harry quickly followed suit, waving his friends to stay put.

“Sir?” He caught the Potion Master at the entrance to the dungeons, “I was wondering if I could have a word?”

Snape eyed him but gestured Harry to follow along in any case.

“If you do not mind assisting me in setting up for my first class of the day, then we may discuss whatever it is you deem so important as to skip your meal for.”

Harry flushed at being caught out, though he wondered that Snape paid close enough attention to notice when he didn't eat. It was probably just habit from them sharing so many meals over the summer.

“Thank you, sir.”

They didn't speak again until Snape had closed the door to his classroom and gestured at Harry to put a set of silver lined cauldrons onto each of the work tables. Harry wondered briefly what potion the class was working on, to need such a thing, it must be an upper year course.

“How is your arm, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, as he carefully laid out a selection of tiny crystal vials across his desk, they each held a potion of varying shades of pink and were labeled with a student's name.

“Fine,” Harry flexed his hand, “a bit tingly still, but I think my fingers are actually _straighter_ now that the ones that had been broken before were replaced.”

He caught the edge of the black look Snape sent the ingredients cupboard, but was grateful that the man did not suggest they _talk_ about how he'd acquired crooked fingers in the first place.

“What did you wish to speak of?” The Potion Master said instead, flicking his wand at the blackboard, cramped spidery writing filling the space in white chalk.

“Is the Headmaster really going to wait until Sprout’s mandrakes are grown?”

“ _Professor_ Sprout.” Snape corrected. “And yes, he believes it is the best solution at this time.”

Harry watched Snape arrange the stack of parchments on his desk into a precise pile. The man had spoken in a tone that gave away just what he thought of that plan. Harry was relieved that he wasn't the only one to see the foolhardiness of it.

“What do you think would change his mind?” Harry asked carefully, taking the bundle of dragonhide wrapped rose quartz stirring rods and walking the room to place a pair by each cauldron.

“I am sure it is not within my prerogative to try and dissuade the Headmaster from his present course.” Snape said in such a precise way that Harry could not miss his meaning if he tried. Snape had been forbidden from interfering.

Harry wondered what power Dumbledore could possibly wield over Snape that would make the Potion Master so compliant. And how far the old man would have to go for Snape to not care enough to ignore such a thing outright. Or perhaps it was easier to fake complacency, and act around the Headmaster in whatever way he saw might work best for certain situations. It was a delicate game, and Harry doubted he was even grasping the edge of it.

Still, he nodded at the Potion Master, a plan forming itself in his own mind.

“Thank you for talking with me, I should get back to the common room before my free period is over. I have a couple letters to write.”

Snape graced him with a smirk that could almost be mistaken for a smile and walked him to the door.

“Do try and avoided any rogue Bludgers on your way, I would not be best pleased to find you in the hospital wing again so soon.”

“Oh, I don't think that will be a problem.” Harry assured him, continuing at the sharp look Snape sent him. “It turns out that was Dobby, the Malfoy’s crazy house elf. The one I told you about. He got it into his head that if I were injured badly enough, that I would leave Hogwarts and go home. I informed him that I did not actually _have_ a home to go back to, which seemed to upset him, but also got the point across that I would not be leaving.”

Snape looked briefly pained and huffed a frustrated breath out of his nose.

“I trust that Dobby will no longer be such an issue?”

Harry shook his head, “No, I think he might still be hanging around, but he promised to stop harassing me.”

Snape nodded sharply, “Good.”

The Potion Master stopped him before he could quite reach the door, and odd look passing over his face before the man leveled him with a serious gaze.

“Harry, you know that I am still your legal guardian, that you are welcome in my home?”

Harry flushed, uncertain what to say to that. He knew, abstractly, that Snape had agreed to look after him when the court had ruled he do so. But that was far and away from being _welcome_. Harry had been on the receiving end of forced guardianship for the majority of his life, and it had not been pleasant to say the least. Snape had been kind to him that summer, given Harry his own space and three meals a day. Allowed him to continue his work at Mr. Jacobi’s, and even taught him the beginnings of Occlumency.

But none of that really implied that the man _cared_ for Harry. He might have let him go off to the apothecary to keep Harry out of the way, taught him Occlumency so he didn't have to listen to the nightly screams. Fed him because Harry was in the world now, people might start to notice if The-Boy-Who-Lived was skinny enough that a stiff breeze might blow him over.

There was a little voice in the back of his head that whispered about all the instances Snape had taken time out to comfort him when he had a panic attack. Or that he let Harry listen to his records, even bought the walkman so that Harry could continue to do so at school. Had given Harry photographs of his mother, when he had no reason to.

But that voice was drowned out by the overwhelming flood of self-doubt and frantic need to protect himself from being tricked into thinking an adult might care enough to want Harry anywhere near their home, let alone welcome him into it.

It was a stupid response, and if he were capable of thinking rationally past his knee-jerk reaction, he might have been able to see that. But Harry had spent too much of his life being told he was unwanted and unloved. He needed to leave, before he did something drastic, like yell at the man, or start _crying_.

“I-I need to go, thank you for the talk.” Harry stuttered, ripping the door open and making good his escape before Snape could call him back.

He was embarrassed and angry and by the time he made it to the common room, he was itching to put all that pent up emotion to some sort of use.

Settling himself at a free desk, Harry set to work crafting a set of carefully worded letters.

~~~~~~~>

Severus glowered at the closed door and sighed. He'd pushed too hard, been far too transparent in his willingness to care for the boy. And he did. Care for Harry Potter. A great deal more than he had ever anticipated when he'd made that promise, full of grief and anger all those years ago.

Severus should have known better than to just lay facts at the child's feet and expect him to believe them offhand. It had been a delicate sort of dance, nearly since the moment that blasted hat had touched that bird’s nest of a head.

Not for the first time, Severus wonder just what he was trying to accomplish in regards to Potter. It had started out as obligation to a dead friend, guilt and no small amount of satisfaction at the thought of what James Potter must think about his son being a _snake_ , and under Severus’ purview at that. The man must be rolling in his grave.

At some point, though, that had morphed into a web of tangled feelings and attachment that Severus had certainly never intended, but found he did not wish to rid himself of; for some unfathomable reason. Now the boy had run off in a panic and Severus had only himself to blame.

When his N.E.W.T. students started to trickle in, smiling and carefree, Severus snapped at them to collect their previously prepared bases and get to work. They all hurried to do so with a satisfying amount of intimidated bustle.

If he was a little short with the class, well, they would hardly be able to tell the difference in any case.

~~~~~~~>

Harry's friends caught him on the way to the owlery, letters in hand.

“Oi, Potter.” Millicent huffed, taking position on his right side, “Not supposed to wander about alone.”

“I'm not alone,” He argued, patting his bag, Millicent rolled her eyes.

“I doubt any of the professors would count your familiar as suitable reinforcements in this case.”

“Snape might.” Blaise quipped from his left as they started up the long spiral staircase that led to the owlery. “Who are we writing?”

“My lawyer.” Harry answered, avoiding the Snape comment. He was determined to not think any more about the Potion Master and how much he'd embarrassed himself by running away like he had. “And a contact I have at an apothecary.”

Blaise smirked and held the door to the owlery open for them, “I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking it's crazy that Dumbledore expects us to wait for some plants to _grow_.”

Millicent snorted and Harry took that for agreement. He caught the attention of a couple of school owls and attached the letters. Blaise was turning his nose up at the state of the floors and startled when a large barn owl fluttered down to stand on his head.

“Hey!” he swatted at the bird, but that just seemed to make it settle in more firmly to its new living perch, hooting reproachfully when Blaise tried to urge it away without actually touching it.

Harry turned away to hide his amused smile, bringing both borrowed owls to the nearest window and letting them know where to go.

Blaise had resorted to cursing in Italian at the bird on his head and Millicent looked as if she was barely holding in her laughter at his plight.

Feeling as if he should probably help, Harry grabbed a treat from one of the lidded bins by the door and whistled at the owl. It looked from the snack in Harry’s hand, down at Blaise, and back before finally abandoning its angry perch and winging over. Harry held out an arm for it to land on and fed it the treat.

Blaise was muttering under his breath about mangy birds and how he'd need at least _three_ showers, Harry just stroked the bird’s soft head. If Jax hadn't so completely loathed the creatures, he imagined it might be nice to have one.

By the time they'd left the owlery, they had to hurry to make it down to Transfiguration in time. McGonagall looked, understandably, a bit stressed and tersely lectured them on the theory of changing natural materials versus artificial. It was complicated enough that Harry was completely distracted from his worries by taking copious amounts of notes and planning just how he could get Sue Li to explain things in a less convoluted fashion. The Ravenclaw was good at things like that, but tended to be quiet during their study group unless one asked leading questions on a subject she was passionate about.

The second hour of class was spent putting that theory to work. Harry had more luck with convincing the polyester to change into a sheet of thin brass than the swatch of cotton fabric; getting it on his second try. McGonagall favored him with a satisfied nod and a few points before moving on across the room to the smoking pile of ash that was Goyle’s attempt.

Well, at least the practical part was easy enough to understand. Harry just knew he would need to spend some extra time on the paper side of things. He liked to understand _why_ things reacted the way they did, not just accept that it was possible to do them and move on.

By the end of the double, all three of them had managed with varying degrees of success, to transfigure everything. McGonagall set them a four foot essay on the differences between natural and artificial bases and why it was important to acknowledge them when attempting to change their states. A few of their yearmates groaned, but overall the Slytherins were a studious bunch and did not react too negatively to the thought of homework.

Or maybe everyone was just glad for the distraction it would offer.

As they were leaving, Harry plucked a fluffy feather from under the collar of Blaise’s robes and handed it to him with a smirk. The boy scowled at the offending gray thing and Harry was moderately surprised it did not catch fire.

~~~~~~~>

He got a reply from Miss Reid the very next morning, promising to have some papers drawn up and a case assembled within a day or two. The missive had been worded with utmost professional phrasing and structure, but Harry thought he could see a hint of vicious glee in the sharpness of the lettering and precisely bold signature at the bottom. It seemed as if she were looking forward to serving Lockhart some much needed reality, for which Harry was all too happy to provide an opportunity for. He wondered just how many people in the wizarding world could see through the man's blatant uselessness and posturing.

He'd just slipped the letter into his bag when another note was neatly dropped into his oatmeal. Harry brushed off a bit of goop before opening it. He hadn't expected either reply quite so quickly, but was not about to complain. Mr. Jacobi’s note was short and cryptic. Just telling Harry not to worry, he'd take care of it.

It was not nearly as much information as he'd prefer, but was still better than nothing.

The three of them spent the remainder of the day, after classes, in the library looking into what sort of creature could cause petrification. Harry figured it might be better to try and figure out what was coming after the students, and how they'd then be better able to protect themselves. They had been having no luck tracing bloodlines or trying to find the Chamber. But maybe if they knew what the monster was, that might give a clue to the other puzzles.

Unfortunately, the rest of the school seemed to have the same idea, as the section on magical beasts was decidedly picked over. They ended up working on Transfiguration instead. Blaise complaining about the need for artificial materials in the first place, which Harry supposed his friend would be unfamiliar with, given his background.

When they finally made it back to the common room, it was to find a notice up on the board with a few people milling about it and whispering excitedly.

“A dueling club?” Millicent asked, sounding uncommonly excited, for once.

“Probably a good idea, wonder who's heading it?” Blaise also looked intrigued.

“Flitwick, probably.” Harry suggested, giving up on trying to see over anyone's shoulders, “Wasn't he a champion, or something?”

“Guess we'll find out this weekend, first meeting is Saturday.”

~~~~~~~>

On Thursday, Harry was called to Snape's office during History of Magic. And as much as he was still embarrassed, Harry would take any excuse to ditch that class, and so followed Gemma Farley down to the dungeons with no protest.

“Here he is, Professor.” She said when Snape bade them enter after a knock.

“Thank you, Miss Farley, you may go.” The man said, without looking up from marking the paper on his desk.

Harry resisted the urge to shuffle his feet, as Snape finally set aside his quill and looked up.

“Have a seat, Mr. Potter.”

Harry did, feeling apprehension creep up his spine. Why had Snape summoned him? Was it to take back what he'd said? Or to force Harry into a conversation about his _feelings_?

Given the lack of tea present, Harry doubted it was the later.

“No need to look quite so guarded, you are not in trouble.” Snape smirked, the expression more comforting than it had any right to be. Harry relaxed.

“Why _am_ I here then, sir?”

Snape opened a drawer and pulled out a short piece of rolled parchment, holding it up.

“I received an interesting letter this morning, from Miss Reid.” Snape explained, “Now, as highly justified and prudent as I find the idea of suing Professor Lockhart, I would nevertheless have preferred a modicum of warning beforehand.”

Harry blinked, that was not the direction he'd thought this meeting would go.

“I didn’t think it necessary, sir.” He reasoned, more confused than anything. “I didn't know she would contact you about it. I would have said something, otherwise.”

Or, he would have if he hadn't been avoiding Snape that whole week.

The Potion Master set the scroll neatly onto his desk and folded his hands together, giving Harry his all too familiar exasperated eyebrow raise.

“I am still your legal guardian, Mr. Potter. Therefore, legal proceedings, such as potential suits and the like, are run by me at the very least.” He held up a hand, forestalling any complaint Harry might have voiced. “I will not interfere in this matter more than to show my utmost support in seeing it through, but in the future, please keep in mind that I am here for a reason.”

The conversation was treading dangerously close to what had occurred earlier in the week, so Harry just nodded; adding in a sheepish shrug that he did not think Snape bought for a second.

“I'm just used to doing things on my own.” Harry confessed.

“Completely understandable.” Snape thankfully did not pursue that course of conversation, “Now, Miss Reid wrote that she would be coming by today, to serve Professor Lockhart the papers, and hold a meeting concerning the situation.”

“When?” She hadn't written Harry about any meeting, probably assuming Snape was already aware and would pass the message along, which he had.

Snape glanced at a small clock sitting on the corner of his desk, it had far too many faces and hands for Harry to make head or tails of, but the Potion Master did not seem to have the same difficulty.

“She should arrive within the next ten minutes, at a guess.”

“Oh, good.” Harry said awkwardly, fiddling with the strap of the bag in his lap. Jax was sleeping and therefore no help whatsoever in providing a distraction.

“Despite the lack of forewarning, I find this an encouraging development from your reticence of the previous year.”

Harry flushed, trying to school his features into something less pleased. He could not help feeling that unfamiliar rush of pride whenever Snape praised him, even if he did not see what was so worthy of it.

“Yes, sir.”

Musing about it, Harry realized that he never would have thought about retaliating in such a manner, if Snape had not helped him so much before. He had spent so long just assuming nothing could be done about the terrible things that happened to him. He would just grit his teeth and bear it, knowing he was not worth the effort of helping.

 _Huh,_ Harry thought, _was this what is was like to have self-esteem?_

Luckily, there was a knock at the door before Harry could do too much introspection.

“Enter.”

It was Miss Reid, looking sharp in deep green robes and those same pointed shoes from Harry’s trial. She smiled at him and Snape, closing the door.

“Hello there, how's the arm doing, Harry?”

Harry wriggled his fingers, “Fine.”

“But better if they hadn't been disappeared?” She winked, taking the remaining seat next to him.

“Right.” Harry was quick to agree, even if it wasn't strictly true, he never would have chosen to go through that night of pain. Crooked fingers were not the end of the world.

“What is it you have planned then, Miss Reid?” Snape inquired.

Her smile turned as sharp as her outfit, “Let me hear exactly what you witnessed, Professor, and we'll see just how much damage we can do to that pompous peacock.”

~~~~~~~>

A cup of tea and an hour’s discussion later had the three of them walking up to the Headmaster’s office with a determined air. Dumbledore let them in with his usual affable air, offering up the ubiquitous dish of lemon sweets, which were in turn unanimously declined.

Dumbledore did not seem deterred, twinkling at them from behind his expansive desk.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? I do not believe we have been personally introduced, Ivy Reid wasn't it?” The man smiled beatifically up at Harry’s lawyer, “It was not so long ago that you graced our halls, what brings you back? And in such esteemed company at that?”

It was a dig at her age, even Harry could see that, but Miss Reid did not let it phase her one bit. She squared her shoulders and leveled the Headmaster with an unimpressed stare.

“I come on the request of a student under your care.” She gestured at Harry, “One that has been greatly wronged and subjected to unnecessary pain and suffering due to gross negligence on the part of one of your staff.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard, as if in deep thought.

“I am sure Gilderoy was only acting in the boy’s best interest. Madam Pomfrey assures me that Harry has made a full recovery. I see no need to escalate the situation any further.”

Miss Reid did not look impressed.

“What you feel about the matter is of little consequence, sir. _Mr. Potter_ was injured under your watch and in residence of the school in which you run. I only come before you today as a courtesy, so that you may bear witness if you prefer. We will be pursuing this matter to its full end.” She gave Dumbledore one of the pointiest smiles Harry had ever seen. “Now, will you summon Mr. Lockhart, or will we be forced to hunt him down?”

Dumbledore stared at her over the rims of his half-moon spectacles, looking more amused by the second. It was infuriating, but Harry held his tongue, they had agreed to let Miss Reid do the talking unless prompted otherwise.

“Very well, why don't all of you have a seat while I contact Gilderoy, hmm?”

Dumbledore swished his wand and four squishy red armchairs materialized in the large space before the desk. At least three of them were set apart from the forth, so that none of them had to actually sit _next_ to Lockhart. Snape pointed Harry to the middle chair, while Dumbledore went over to his fireplace and stuck his head in a burst of emerald flames. Whatever the man was saying either too low to hear or he’d cast a privacy charm.

There was a wheezing sort of hacking sound from behind them and Harry turned to see a sickly looking bird clinging to an ornate perch. It looked to be shedding it’s ashy-red feathers, revealing wrinkled bald patches. It was hunched over and seemed about ready to fall down dead at the slightest breeze.

Harry looked away, he did not want to watch Dumbledore's pet bird die, on top of everything else.

The man himself had retaken his seat and summoned up a full tea service that included not only a variety of biscuits, but finger sandwiches and little chocolate truffles as well. Harry took a cup only after Snape did, not drinking from it, just letting it warm his hands.

They all sat in silence, except for an occasional cough from the bird and Dumbledore's apparent need to _hum_ while they waited.

Not soon enough, there was a rapid series of knocks at the door before Lockhart flounced in, wearing lurid golden teaching robes and smiling with far too many teeth as he took in the room and it’s occupants.

“You wished to see me, Headmaster? I dare say, you lot look grim.”

Harry tightened his grip on the teacup to stop himself from giving the man a two-fingered salute. The urge was a surprisingly strong one.

Miss Reid stood from her armchair and opened her briefcase to extract a sheaf of parchment.

“Mr. Lockhart, I am here on behalf of Mr. Harry James Potter, on the matter of unwanted magic used against him by yourself earlier this week.” She walked up to the still-grinning Lockhart and held out the papers. “You are being pursued to provide equivocal compensation and or to face judgment for this crime before the Wizengamot.”

The smile slowly slipped off the man’s face in an almost comical way as his blue eyes widened, he gave a weak sounding laugh and looked to Dumbledore, not touching the papers being shoved under his nose. Harry noticed, with a small sense of satisfaction, that Miss Reid was actually _taller_ than Lockhart.

“Heh, Albus, old boy, is this some sort of prank?” He asked, with a hopeful air, “I do love a good practical joke as much as the next man. One time, in Timbuktu, there were these pair of--”

“Gilderoy,” Dumbledore interrupted what was sure to be a long and convoluted tale, for which Harry was privately thankful. “I do believe that young Miss Reid is indeed quite serious.”

Lockhart still did not take the parchments, not even deigning to look at them. With a flick of her wand, Miss Reid set them to circling the man’s head like cartoon birds. Lockhart turned his gaze to Harry next, ignoring the orbiting paperwork with somewhat admirable determination.

“Harry, is this your doing? This is no way to go about getting someone’s attention. If you wanted a bit of one on one time, all you needed to do was _ask_.”

Harry glared, setting his tea down for fear of shattering the delicate china.

“Mr. Lockhart.” Miss Reid spoke firmly, demanding his attention. “You performed untrained, unwanted, magic on a minor against the express permission of said minor and that child’s legal guardian. This is a serious offense, and you _will_ report for your court date or I shall have the Aurors after you.”

Lockhart was starting to look flighty now, his perfectly coiffed hair drooping. He darted a look to Snape, but wisely (for once) apparently decided not to pursue that course of action and turned back to Harry.

“Now, Harry, it was just a bit of floppy arm. It happens to the best of us. Surely there is no need for all this,” He waved a hand at the still circling papers, “nonsense?”

“My client was sent to the hospital wing and had to endure _hours_ of painful bone regrowth, due to your incompetence. You are lucky I did not go to the board of governors to have you immediately removed from this school.”

Lockhart shrank back from her vicious words as if each syllable were a knife being tossed at his head. Harry snuck a glance at Snape and saw him hiding a smirk in his tea, his black eyes bright with what had to be an abundance of schadenfreudic glee. Harry was still too angry to truly appreciate what he was witnessing, but he looked forward to thinking back on it when he’d calmed down.

Lockhart finally took hold of the parchment before it started actively smothering him.

“Ah, yes, no need for that. I’ll be sure to mark the date on my calendar.”

“Be certain you do.” She turned away from the cowering professor and gestured to Harry. “Alright, now as that is sorted, we have a little more to discuss in private. Come along Mr. Potter.”

She spared the smallest of nods to Dumbledore, who had sat surprisingly silent throughout the whole of the encounter. “Headmaster.”

He waved them away, eyes a-twinkle, and Harry gratefully followed Miss Reid and Snape past Lockhart and down the spiral staircase.

Once back in the Potion Master’s office, Harry offered his hand with a serious expression.

“Thank you, Miss Reid. That was brilliant.” She shook it with a firm grip, smiling warmly at him.

“No need, Mr. Potter, the pleasure was all mine. I look forward to shredding that man up and down the courtroom.” She chuckled quietly. “And no need to worry about being there, your presence will not be required for something this relatively minor. I’ll come ‘round again in a week or so and gather up any further testimonies or evidence I may need, and Professor Snape can act in your stead as your legal guardian.”

Harry glanced over at the still smirking professor, “You wouldn’t mind, sir?”

The only part about this that he’d been apprehensive towards was the idea of having to watch people’s reactions to him and seeing the pity in their eyes. 

“Certainly not,” the man assured him, a wicked twist appearing just for a second at the corner of his mouth, “I should think I would very much enjoy bearing witness to such a thing.”

Miss Reid clapped, “It’s settled then, thank you gentleman, for your continued consideration. I should get to work on this, I’ll send word when I need to pop in next.”

Snape escorted her to the door, offering his own farewell, Harry gave a wave. Then he was alone with the Potion Master once more, but this time it did not feel quite so awkward.

So, of course, he had to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“I’m sorry for running away, erm, before...” Harry could feel the heat flooding his face, but refused to look away this time, he needed to say it and for Snape to know he meant it.

The man simply looked at him for a moment before slowly crossing over to stand before him.

“There is no need for apologies, Harry, I realize it is a lot to acclimatize to. Your situation, as much as you wish it were not, is a delicate one. I should have been less blunt.”

Harry shook his head, frustrated at his own emotions and how they hindered more often than helped. He clenched his hands into fists and forced more words out past his issues and the very real need to just run away again.

“I...appreciate, what you said. I know you sort of got stuck with me, that I invaded your home and space without much warning. I just want you to know that...that it means a lot, that you don’t hate me for it.” Each word felt like glass as he pushed them out, it hurt to be so open with someone that wasn’t a snake that couldn’t even talk to anyone else. He barely even shared as much with _Blaise_ , if he could help it.

But, as painful as it seemed, there was also a rush of relief in getting them out there, into the air. Even if Snape was looking down at him with something dangerously close to sorrow.

“Harry, if you are determined that we should speak so plainly in this instance, I will tell you this with full transparency: I do not, nor could I _ever_ hate you.”

Harry sniffed, feeling the tell-tale prick of water at the corners of his eyes.

“My mother--”

“This has nothing to do with Lily.” Snape cut him off, holding up his hands in an open gesture. “I meant what I said, you are welcome in my home. Not because you are her son, or _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ , or some charity case. You should know by now that I am not a nice, or charitable, man. If I let _anyone_ into my personal space, it is because I care enough to allow them. Do not cheapen that gesture by questioning my own mind and standing.”

Harry gave a shaky nod, rubbing at one eye under the rectangular frames of his glasses with a knuckle in an effort to stave off the tears. It did not help. He could feel the hot drops working their way free, despite all his efforts to keep them back.

“Th-thank you, sir.” He managed before a hiccup stopped him.

A moment later he was enveloped in a swish of voluminous black fabric that smelled faintly of ink and various herbs and pressed against a warm, if fairly tense, chest. It took a solid five seconds to realize Snape was _hugging_ him, and a further ten to get over the shock enough to unclench his fists and cling to the robes surrounding him.

It was not the most comfortable hug he’d ever received, both of them far too stiff and unused to such actions, but he’d had so few in his life that Harry was not about to complain.

Though how he’d ever be able to look the Potion Master in the eye again, after getting snot all over his robes, was another matter altogether.


	13. Chapter 13

The Great Hall had been cleared of the House tables to make space for a long low stage down the center of the room. There were groups of students huddled together and gossiping all around and Harry stood back against a wall, watching them. Blaise was to his left and Millicent on the other side, all three of them had been looking forward to the first meeting of the dueling club; along with what looked to be half the school.

“So who do you think it will be?” Blaise asked, eyeing the crowd of excited students.

Harry shrugged, reaching an absent hand into his bag to give Jax a scritch. The snake had his head peeking out of the corner of the satchel, his speckled snout poking curiously into the air. He was as eager as Harry to see a real wizard duel.

“As long as it’s not--”

Harry had barely gotten the words out when Lockhart came sweeping into the room in lurid, cream robes that _sparkled_ at the seams and down the arms in a convoluted pattern that Harry really did not want to get a closer look at.

“ _Merda._ ” Blaise groaned from beside him.

“Shit.” Millicent agreed.

“Hello students!” Lockhart shouted, teeth on full display as he strode the length of the low stage. “I do hope you are all excited to start this dueling club. The skills you learn here will be a great asset to you if you ever find you must defend yourselves, as I myself have done on numerous occasions.” Lockhart continued to prattle on, but Harry tuned him out.

“It might be, if someone competent were teaching.” He muttered, wondering if he should just call it a wash and leave right then.

“--and so with the gracious help of your very own Professor Snape, we shall give you all a good demonstration of proper dueling!”

Harry straightened from his slouch against the wall, he’d not even noticed the Potion Master enter, so distracted by Lockhart’s rhinestone encrusted ensemble. But there he was, standing calmly at the opposite end of the stage and fingering his wand in a way that should really worry Lockhart.

“Of, this will be good.” Blaise said gleefully, eyeing the duo.

Harry nodded his agreement, glad to not have left.

“Now, children, don’t worry. You’ll still have your Potion Master by the end, I’ll be sure to go easy on him.” Lockhart said with a large wink at the crowd, there was a smattering of giggles.

“First, we bow!” The man dropped into a sweeping gesture full of twirling hands and fluttering robes.

Snape jerked his head slight forward.

“Then we both raise our wands like so.” Lockhart gave his a little twirl as he positioned it above his head, the end pointed nowhere near Snape, with a grin.

Snape, by contrast, looked as he’d done when facing off against that troll last year. Calm and deadly focused, with a calculating look to his dark eyes that would have any sane person shaking in their boots. Lockhart just grinned harder.

“He is so dead.” Millicent sounded like she was looking forward to that outcome, Harry could not help but agree.

“On the count of three then. One, two, three!”

Before Lockhart could even begin to twirl his wand, Snape had slashed down, “ _Expelliarmus_.”

Lockhart’s wand went spinning into the air as the man himself was shot past the full length of the stage to land in a heap of sparkling robes on the stone floor; Snape caught the wand neatly in his free hand without having to move an inch.

Harry clapped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart popped back up with more enthusiasm that one might expect after so disastrous a fall, climbing back onto the stage and shaking his head at Snape with a grin.

“Very good idea showing them that move, Professor. Though I must say, it was _pretty_ obvious what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been all too easy.”

Snape sneered, only handing over the man’s wand after making him walk the entire length of the stage.

“Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach them how to block unfriendly spells?” The Potion Master quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at Lockhart, who was trying to fix his mussed hair with little success.

“Right you are, Professor.” The man agreed readily, turning back to the crowd. “Okay, so as you witnessed, Professor Snape demonstrated the effectiveness of a disarming spell. Although it was blatantly clear what he was going to do, I felt it prudent to give a good show of what might happen if you catch your opponent unawares with such a thing.”

Harry snorted as Lockhart twittered on for some length, eventually demonstrating _protego_. Well, not so much demonstrated as flourished his wand in so complicated a pattern that he _dropped_ it and Snape stepped up to show the actual process.

“Do _not_ overcomplicate your movements.” The Potion Master told the crowd, voice the same deadly serious tone he used when explaining just how volatile a substance could be in class. He rotated his wrist in a small circle in front of himself, slow so that everyone could see, before murmuring: “ _Protego_.”

A shimmering, translucent blue shield materialized before the Potion Master, an oval tall and wide enough to provide cover for a single person full on or maybe two if they stood sideways and quite close.

There was a round of polite clapping and a few _oohs_ from the younger students.

With a flick, Snape cancelled the spell.

“The strength of the shield depends entirely upon the one that casts it. If one does not put enough power behind their defenses, the spell will be as ineffective as holding up a scrap of parchment against an inferno.” Snape was lecturing with an obvious knowledge and competency to back it up and Harry could not help but hang on to his every word. “It is possible to cast the spell both silent and wandless, if one is in dire enough straits to require such.”

He then stowed his wand up a sleeve and held up a bare hand, fingers splayed. The shimmering blue shield reappeared, just as vibrant as before. That caused a more enthusiastic response from the students, as they burst into excited whispers and impressed clapping. Snape waved the shield away like it hadn’t been one of the most impressive bits of magic many of them had ever seen.

Lockhart looked as if he had swallowed a lemon.

“Doing so, of course, takes a tremendous amount of practice and concentration. I do not recommend trying such until you have mastered the initial spell and also have an established handle on just how much magic you can exert before simply collapsing from magical exhaustion. It may be far easier to simply find physical cover.” Snape glared out over the crowd, although Harry could tell the man was pleased with the demonstration. “It is a fool that relies solely on one tool, whilst other solutions present themselves.”

“Yes, yes, very informative Professor.” Lockhart had apparently had enough of being ignored, “ Thank you so much for the assistance. I think it’s time we split up into groups and put all this new knowledge to work, ‘eh?”

Harry admired Snape’s ability to project so much contempt into a single quirk of an eyebrow while simultaneously resisting the urge to strangle the other professor. Blaise was snickering next to him and Harry had to push down his own need to laugh, taking a moment to slip off his satchel and carefully place it up against the wall and out of the way. 

He gave Jax a quick scritch under the chin, “ _Stay in there, okay? No matter what, I don’t want you getting stepped on._ ”

“ _Is Snape going to send that peacock flying again? That was great._ ”

Harry snorted and shook his head, standing back up before he completely lost his composure.

Everyone split up into pairs, Harry ended up against Ron Weasley somehow and they each gave a short bow before taking up their positions.

“Okay students!” Lockhart shouted merrily from his place up on the stage, raising both arms grandly, “Begin!”

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Weasley shouted, jabbing at Harry with his shabby looking wand.

There was a flash of light, but Harry had expected the Gryffindor to go for the attack outright and was already stepping aside. The spell went wide and Harry shot his own at the surprised looking redhead. Weasley’s wand flew out of his hand and he grunted but did not fly back like Lockhart had, thankfully. Harry hadn’t wanted to really hurt the other boy.

“Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Potter.” Snape spoke from a few feet away, where he was observing all the dueling pairs. “Excellent control.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry managed not to flush bright red by some miracle and bent down to retrieve Weasley’s wand where it had rolled toward him.

He handed it back with a small smile, hoping the boy wasn’t too angry at having lost.

“You almost had me,” Harry fibbed when Weasley huffed and took the wand back. “Want to go again?”

Weasley eyed him with wounded pride but squared his shoulders anyhow and nodded.

“Alright then, Potter.”

They took up positions again and did their own countoff, Weasley seemed to anticipate Harry moving again and shot his spell where he thought Harry might go, but he had stepped in the opposite direction and it did not even get close to touching him.

Not wanting to end the round quite so quickly, Harry tried to throw up a shield instead of disarming Weasley again.

“ _Protego_.” It was a little wobbly around the edges, but the barrier came up easily enough. 

Which was mildly surprising, as he usually had to work hard at Charms to get them to go properly.

Maybe it was because doing protective magics was different than trying to make a pineapple dance across a desk. Either way, Harry was just happy he’d done so well on his first try.

It even held up against a few jinxes thrown by Weasley, multicolored lights splashing against the shield like water or ricocheting away to hit the ceiling. Holding the charm up was draining though, and Harry let it drop a few seconds later, shooting a dancing jinx at Weasley at the same time.

“Oi!”

Harry smirked a little at the indignant look the Gryffindor was giving his own legs as they cut a merry jig without his permission. He used the distraction to disarm Weasley again, this time managing to catch the flying wand before it went clattering to the floor and caused a tripping hazard.

He cancelled the spell with a quiet _finite_ , handing over the wand once more.

Weasley was panting but took it with a grin, “That was pretty quick, Potter. Again?”

There was a competitive glint in the other boy’s eyes, which was better than bitter hate. So Harry nodded, relieved.

“How about you try the shield this time?”

Weasley rolled his eyes but agreed. They took up their spots and counted off again. Weasley didn’t manage as good of a barrier as Harry had, the blue light wavering and sporting a couple holes, but it was there after a few tries all the same. Although its appearance seemed to startle Weasley so much that he was barely able to hold onto it more than a couple seconds and took a tripping jinx to the legs for his trouble.

They took a break after that to glance around the room. It was mostly in chaos, with various degrees of smouldering robes and bleeding noses. Apparently, he and Weasley had gotten off light in the pairings department. As quite a few seemed to be trying their utmost to maim one another. Like Parkinson squaring off against Granger with a mean look on her pug face and shooting spell after spell at the Gryffindor’s perfectly cast shield. The Slytherin girl seemed to take it as an affront that she could not get past Granger’s defenses and was casting things Harry _knew_ would not have stood were anyone else paying any sort of attention. They were by no means the only angry looking pair though.

A short survey of the room showed most of the students fighting against a Slytherin seemed to be taking it more personally than was warranted. While duos comprised of any other House just looked to be enjoying the lesson. It was as if the entire rest of the school had a vendetta against them, which Harry supposed should not have surprised him. Even if Parkinson looked to be gunning for Granger personally, everyone else looked like they were taking a lot of joy in the opportunity to curse some Slytherins.

Luckily Snape called a halt to things, before too much damage could be done. He eyed the room with a glare but before he could say anything, Lockhart called out first.

“Excellent! Great job everyone!”

Harry boggled at the man, could he not see how singed a particular section of the crowd was?

“How about we have a little competition up here, hmm?”

Oh, no. Harry tried to slink back behind some taller students. Ever since the meeting in Dumbledore’s office, Lockhart had become even more unbearable. Constantly calling on Harry in class or finding him in the halls to impart what he must consider sage advice. He’d even passed Harry a box of expensive looking chocolates once, in an obvious bribe. As if the man thought that he showered Harry with enough praise and attention, he might drop the suit. When in fact it was making him want to speed things along even faster. Calling Harry up to the stage was just the sort of thing Lockhart might think a treat.

“Let’s have Mr. Malfoy up here and,” Lockhart made a show of scanning the crowd before smiling brightly at Harry’s not-so-well-hidden form, “Ah yes, Mr. Potter. Up, up, time for a bit of in-House sparing, there’s a good lad.”

Harry grit his teeth and reluctantly made his way to the stage, taking his time with the steps on Snape’s end. He sent a pleading look at the Potion Master, who just gave a bit of a sigh and gestured Harry along.

“Best to just get it over with, Mr. Potter.” The man murmured as Harry walked by, “You know it would be worse to try and refuse.”

Harry shuddered at the thought of what Lockhart might come up with to get his way and took up his position before Malfoy with new determination. He’d bested Weasley well enough, if he just ignored the crowd of spectators, this might be over soon enough.

Malfoy looked like he was torn between sneering at him and trying to look indifferent. The boy had definitely not liked being ignored for so long, and Harry prepared himself for what that might manifest as in this fight.

“Heir Malfoy.” He gave the blonde a short bow, as required. It seemed to startle the boy into a less vicious state at least and he returned the gesture.

“Heir Potter.”

“Okay now, on the count of three: one, two, _three_!”

“ _Protego_!”

“ _Flipendo_!”

Harry’s shield charm deflected the knockback jinx easily and he shot one of his own right back while Malfoy was busy scowling. It caught the other boy high in the shoulder and sent him skidding along the length of the stage amongst raucous laughter from the crowd. Harry let Malfoy get up before shooting another spell, this one turned aside by the blonde’s own shield.

They exchanged a few more blows before Malfoy caught another spell that sent him down again. This time when he got up, his pale face was flushed with embarrassed anger and he seemed to be deciding whether or not to do something he knew he shouldn’t. Harry had seen that look on the boy’s face before and steeled himself against whatever nastiness Malfoy might have planned.

“ _Serpensortia_!”

There was a bright flash of yellow light as something long and dark burst forth from the end of Malfoy’s wand.

“ _Who dares! I will kill you! I will swallow you whole!_ ” A large cobra was hissing angrily in the center of the stage, swaying from side to side, looking for something to attack.

“ _Calm down!_ ” Harry cried, moving forward at a swift trot, pocketing his wand. “ _Don’t bite anyone, please. I’ll help you._ ”

The snake, who seemed to have settled on Finch-Fletchley to target its wrath and was slithering towards the Hufflepuff, fangs bared, jerked around at Harry’s voice.

“ _Speaker? What is happening? Why am I here?_ ”

Harry dropped to his knees and held out his hands, palms up, a foot away from the cobra.

“ _A mistake, I apologize. I can help you get home, just don’t bite anyone, please. I have some meat in my bag, if you’re hungry._ ”

The cobra eyed him for a moment before giving a snaky sort of shrug and lowering his hood. It slithered over and allowed Harry to pick him up with all the regal authority of a king. Harry was used to that sort of attitude from snakes and stroked the cobra’s head and neck fondly. He really was beautiful, when not trying to bite people’s faces off.

“Mr. Potter. I do believe I should Vanish that now, if you are quite finished making friends?” Snape was standing over him, looking stern, but there was a worry behind the quip and Harry glanced around to see everyone staring at him wide-eyed and fearful.

He glanced at Finch-Fletchley, who was pale and a bit shaky, but managed a fraction of a smile in any case, “Cheers, Potter.”

His voice was weak, but at least he wasn’t looking at Harry like the majority of the surrounding students. He gave the Hufflepuff an equally shaky nod before turning his attention back to Snape so he could pretend to ignore the whispers that were starting to fill the room.

“What will happen to him?” He asked, climbing to his feet and clutching the cobra protectively, he didn’t want the snake to die, it wasn’t his fault Malfoy was being such a prick.

Snape’s hand twitched in a way that Harry knew meant he wanted to pinch his nose in exasperation, but had an image to maintain.

“I will merely send it back from whence it came. Fear not, Mr. Potter, the beast shall be free to bite hapless people _elsewhere_.”

Harry glared and stoked the cobra’s head again, “He wouldn’t do that, he was just scared. You’d be scared too if you were suddenly yanked from your home and dropped into a crowd of children.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, “The horror.” he deadpanned, and before Harry could say anything else, the man pointed his wand at the snake. It disappeared in a poof of smoke, leaving Harry holding nothing but air.

Then the Potion Master was turning a formidable glare at the surrounding students, “Out! All of you. The last one to leave this Hall will lose fifty points.”

There was a mad dash for the doors until only Harry, Malfoy, Blaise, Millicent and the Professors remained.

Snape strode over to the blonde and grabbed him by the back of the robes, “A word in my office, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Y-yes, sir. I--”

“ _Now_.”

Snape fairly dragged Malfoy off the stage and towards the dungeons. Harry took the opportunity to run and grab his satchel, checking on Jax.

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

His snake rose up enough to butt his head against Harry’s chin.

“ _Fine. I almost came to help, but I couldn’t see what was happening from all the way down here._ ” Jax hissed reproachfully, glaring up at him with a hard, purple gaze.

“ _It was over really quick, two snakes would have been too much for any of them to handle, it might have caused a huge panic._ ”

Jax huffed, still displeased, but allowed Harry to close the flap of the bag again so they could get going.

Lockhart, thankfully, was still just standing on the stage with a flabbergasted look on his face. So it was easy enough for them all to slip away.

“This is not good.” Blaise murmured, looking around them as they hurried to the common room, as if he expected a group of angry students to jump out at them any second. Harry did not blame his friend for the paranoia, he felt the same and quickened their pace.

“How much you want to bet the whole school thinks I’m the Heir of Slytherin by dinner?”

Millicent snorted, “Might be wise to lay low for a bit.”

“You think?” Harry growled, barely waiting for the door to form before pushing into the common room.

It was fairly empty, save for a few upper years studying, but Harry moved on to the dorms nonetheless. Blaise and Millicent followed. He let Jax out onto the bed and sat down on the edge, burying his head in his hands, fingers gripping the already wild locks.

“This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.”

Jax slipped over his lap and rose up to drape over the back of Harry's neck in a snakey hug, rubbing his wedge shaped head against his chin.

“It could be worse.” Millicent tried, dropping down next to him and knocking their shoulders together.

“How?”

“Well...” She hmm’d, taking a long moment to come up with an answer, “That snake could have bitten Finch-Fletchley, then everyone would have thought you told it to do that instead of obviously calming it down.”

Blaise scoffed and sank into the spot on Harry’s other side.

“As if they won't think that anyway. Everyone is scared and looking for someone to blame. People see what they want to see. Suddenly a Parselmouth is discovered in their midst, a _Slytherin_ Parselmouth...” He let the statement hang, there was no need for elaboration.

Harry knew just how deep he was in it now, whether he wanted to be or not.

~~~~~~~>

Harry walked between his friends on the way to dinner. They had agreed to act as if all were well. Harry would not be intimidated into disrupting his entire schedule. If he immediately started avoided the whole school it would be as good as admitting guilt.

That did not mean he was about to linger in the Hall once he'd scarfed down a bowl of green curry over rice. Harry could feel the eyes staring at him from all tables. The room had been awash with whispers since he'd sat down and Harry wasted no time in plating up. It reminded him of being back at the Dursleys, feeling the hate-filled glares trained on him as he tried to eat as quickly as possible, lest the meal be taken away.

Harry’s fingers started shaking and he gripped the spoon tighter, his other arm wrapped around the bowl like he hadn't done since halfway through his first year at Hogwarts.

There was a tapping against his boots and Harry jumped a little, glancing up at Blaise across from him. The other boy gave him a quick flash of a smile and a wink; tapping his boots again. Harry took a deep breath and forced himself on calm down. He pressed back against Blaise’s foot, feeling the burgeoning panic recede.

People still hissed at him when they left to visit the library before curfew, but it did not feel as horrible as it might have. Not with Millicent glaring them into submission and Blaise looking down his nose at anyone daring to stare.

“Potter! Hey, Potter, wait up!”

It took a concentrated effort not to hunch his shoulders at the voice calling up the stairs. Schooling his features into as calm a mask as he could manage, Harry turned.

It was Finch-Fletchley, fairly skipping up the steps to reach them, his usual over-happy demeanor a sharp contrast to what Harry was feeling.

“Hey, Potter.” The boy puffed when he finally reached them, a little out of breath. “I just-- I wanted to thank you. For earlier, with that bloody great snake.”

“Oh, um, sure.” Harry fumbled for something to say, completely unprepared for this sort of reaction. “He wouldn't have hurt you, he was just scared.”

That wasn't strictly true, but the Hufflepuff didn't need to know that.

Finch-Fletchley huffed out a laugh, “I suppose I can understand that well enough. Are you lot headed up to the library? Mind if I tagged along? Not ‘spose to be wandering about on our own, yeah?”

And so it ended up that Finch-Fletchley came with them, chatting the whole way with Harry about what it was like to talk to snakes, having no idea that was something a wizard could do.

When they had settled at a table and Harry started pulling things from his satchel, the Hufflepuff gasped.

“Is that a _walkman_?” his eye were wide and he was bouncing in his seat a little. “I didn't think those worked here or I’d’ve brought mine.”

Harry blinked, putting an unconsciously protective hand over the device.

“Yeah, er, it had to be charmed to work right.” He answered hesitantly, “Do you like music?”

Finch-Fletchley rolled his eyes in a playful manner, “Who doesn't like music? Who charmed yours? If I get me mum to send mine, do you think they'd do it too?”

“It was Professor Snape, I suppose if you asked politely enough he would.”

Finch-Fletchley drooped for a moment before regaining his buoyant demeanor.

“Worth a shot. So who do you like to listen to? I like The Stones.”

Before Harry could answer, Madam Pince sneaked up and hissed at them sharply to be quiet. Finch-Fletchley gave a sheepish look and took out his Herbology book.

They spent a while studying before heading back down. The library had become increasingly crowded and Harry did not like the feel of all the eyes on him as he tried to write about the difference between tiger claw and leopard when brewing in pewter.

A some point between the library and the entrance to Hufflepuff (it was one the way to the dungeons, it just made sense to make a slight detour) Finch-Fletchley became Justin and Harry resigned himself to the continued presence of the bubbly Hufflepuff. There were worse things.

~~~~~~~>

Things progressed as Harry assumed they would. Over the next few days he was subjected to hisses and glares and not so subtle threats. It was treatment he'd spent most of his life bearing, and so held his head high and ignored it until he was alone and could let the shaking and anger and unfairness of it all wash over him. He took to practicing his Occlumency when he woke up as well as before bed. It was much easier to face the other Houses with a clear mind and his emotions firmly locked away before they could hinder him.

It was hard to maintain though, and usually only lasted through breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

The other Slytherins had taken to lingering around wherever Harry was, not in any obvious sort of way, but there always seemed to be a group of the huddled in the corridor or at the library or wherever Harry might happen to be going. They didn't look at him, or speak to him, but their mere presence was a good enough deterrent for the more _forthright_ of students. It was an odd thing, to have so many people on his side, even if most of them were only doing it out of House loyalty.

Still, Harry tried to avoid the crowds when he could.

Which was why he and Blaise were walking with Millicent back from an early morning practice, midway through the next week. Flint had insisted on the hour, as the curfew restricted evening practices. It led to quite a bit of groaning amongst the team, but every one of them dragged their feet down to the pitch in the dark of the early winter morning to fly about. Harry, and by association Blaise, had agreed to accompany Millicent that morning. If only to make snarky comments about how frozen they must be while Harry used his warming trick to make the two of them nice and toasty in their cloaks.

It was interesting to watch the drills and patterns Flint put them all through, shouting and cursing in a way Harry doubted the sixth year could get away with at any other time. Millicent even managed to aim a solid Bludger to Malfoy’s shoulder at one point, and when the blonde tried to complain to Flint the Captain just sneered and said he should have been paying more attention.

The sun was just starting its climb into the sky when Millicent joined them down on the pitch, after getting changed into her regular class robes.

They were still snickering about the affronted look on Malfoy’s face as they crossed the grounds, when they spotted the figure approaching up the path from the gates.

“Who's that?” Blaise asked as they all slowed to watch the man walk closer.

He had a large crate floating next to him and an oddly familiar gait. It took a few seconds for it to click, but by the time the figure was in shouting distance Harry was doing just that.

“Mr. Jacobi?!”

The man looked up and over, a wide grin splitting his features as he spotted Harry, quickening his pace to catch up to them. The large crate bobbing behind like a big square balloon.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, incredulous. Mr. Jacobi laughed, reaching over to pat at Harry’s cap-covered head in lieu of ruffling his hair.

“You needed mandrakes right? I said I'd take care of it.” He gestured with a thumb behind himself at the floating crate, “Buggers are bit difficult to find this time of year, else I would have been up here much sooner.”

“Yeah, but I thought you'd just mail them or something, not come all the way here. I didn't mean to be a bother.”

Mr. Jacobi rolled his eyes, “You know you’ve never been so much as a nuisance. Besides,” He winked, “how could I turn down the opportunity to spend some quality time with dear, surly Severus, hmm?”

Harry snorted, amused.

“So, Harry? Are you going to introduce us to your friend?” Blaise commented, looking intrigued but trying to hide it. Harry had become well versed in the other boy’s expressions though, and could tell he was curious.

“Oh, sorry, this is Mr. Jacobi, he owns an apothecary in a village near where I grew up.” Harry hesitated before continuing, he wasn't sure how he felt about his two worlds meeting in such a way. In the end it was pointless to try, his friends would have found out eventually, and it wasn't as if he was _ashamed_ of it or anything.

“I work there, during the summers. It's nice. Mr. Jacobi, this is Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode.”

“You know it would fall apart without you, little snake.” Mr. Jacobi chuckled, shaking hands with Blaise and Millicent. “Lovely to meet you, Harry has nothing but the kindest things to say of you both.”

Harry flushed at the smirk Blaise sent him, ducking his head.

“And please, do call me Ezra.” The man continued, ignoring how flustered Harry was, “We’re not at the shop, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

Harry managed a nod, a little taken aback, no adult had ever asked that of him before. It would take some getting used to, even though he’d known Mr. Jacobi-- _Ezra_ for years.

“Now,” the man grinned slyly, rubbing his gloved hands together, “let’s go see just how much fun we can have delivering these screaming beauties, yeah?”

He got three matching smirks in return.


	14. Chapter 14

The three of them manage to slip into the Great Hall a good few minutes before Mr. Jacobi made his appearance. They settled at their usual places and tried not to look as if they'd been up to something. An easy enough task, given all the practice Harry had gotten at it over the years. He spooned some curried potatoes onto his plate, along with a scoop of scrambled eggs and a few strips of crispy bacon.

Blaise had an amused smirk curving the corner of his mouth as he filled a bowl with cut fruit and yogurt, but Blaise was usually smirking for one reason or another, so nobody looked twice. Millicent had her usual bored mask firmly in place as she stabbed a few slabs of ham over to her plate, no doubt hungry from the early morning practice.

It was late enough now that the House tables were a good bit filled with sleepy-eye students, cradling steaming cups of tea or trying not to snore into their toast.

Harry had just acquired his own cup when Ezra strolled in, happy smile of his face and crate bobbing merrily behind him. He was still bundled up in gloves and scarf but had pulled his knit cap off, revealing his buzzed head and ears reddened from the cold.

Harry watched as the man strolled down past the Gryffindor table and up to the teacher’s.

“Oh my days, is that Ezra Jacobi?” Flitwick squeaked, standing up on his chair with a grin. “Whatever are you doing here, lad?”

Mr. Jacobi gave Flitwick a sweeping bow before straightening with a grin.

“Professor Flitwick, so nice to see you. I come bearing gifts!” He answered, pulling off his gloves and unraveling the slightly-worn blue and bronze scarf but leaving it draped over his neck. Harry had no doubt the choice of attire had been a deliberate one.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat from the center of the long table, eyes full twinkle but Harry could see a suspicious pull to the man’s vague smile.

“And to what do we owe the sudden appearance of such generosity, my boy? I was unaware we were expecting any donations at this time.”

Whispers were starting to fill the hall like background static, the students finally rousing themselves from their morning stupor.

Mr. Jacobi simply took up a concerned look and clasped his hands together before him. Harry was surprised the man didn't go the full route and throw in a trembling lip, it would have looked ridiculous on Ezra’s blunt face, but Harry thought he might be able to pull it off if he really wanted.

“I received a troubling correspondence from a concerned student. I just had to rush up here and see what help I could provide.” He fingered his scarf in a seemingly unconscious move that had Flitwick grinning proudly down at his former student and quite a few of the other teachers smiling kindly. “I've procured a hefty shipment of healthy, mature mandrakes. And would love to offer any further assistance needed in brewing or providing more materials. I'd hate to see any students suffer needlessly when I can so readily help.”

Harry hid a smirk in his shoulder, trying his hardest to not burst out laughing. He snuck a glance at Snape and nearly lost it right then.

The Potion Master looked torn between scowling outrageously at Mr. Jacobi’s mere presence and his own smugness at successfully working around the Headmaster’s decree. It made for an interesting twist to his eyebrows and Harry had to look away, lest he lose his own composure.

The Headmaster did not look much better, though the old man hid it well behind a kindly smile. There was a sharpness to his gaze however, as he peered down at Ezra over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.

“Might I inquire as to the student that contacted you? I should think such empathetic action deserves a reward, hmm?”

Mr. Jacobi gave a sad shake of his head, putting a hand to his chest.

“Apologies, Headmaster, but they dearly wished to remain anonymous. And it would be a disservice to betray that request, when doing so might make a target of the student in question. I'd hate to think any carelessness on my part would put a child in jeopardy.”

Blaise coughed quietly into his sleeve, eyes wide as they flicked from Ezra to Dumbledore and back before finally landing on Harry.

“Are you sure that man was a _Ravenclaw_?”

Harry allowed a quick, fond, smile.

“Yeah, but I bet the hat had a hard time choosing. I've had my suspicions of such for a while.”

“How long have you know him?” The other boy asked, quietly enough that they wouldn't be easily overheard.

Harry shrugged, “A few years.” He answered vaguely, not really wanting to get into it at the breakfast table. Especially when there was something much more enjoyable to witness instead.

Sprout and Flitwick had both descended from the dais and were shaking Mr. Jacobi’s hand warmly, while Dumbledore hid a frown in his overly ornate goblet. It would hardly be noticeable to most, but the angle Slytherin’s table provided was useful.

“Well then, on behalf of the school and its students, I thank you. We will put the mandrakes to use right away.” Dumbledore had found his smile again, perhaps finally seeing through the inconvenience of being worked around to the benefits he could reap from such interference.

Harry did not think the old man truly wished harm on any of the children in the school, but that did not excuse the fact that he had tightened his hold too far too fast and lost sight of the forest for the trees.

Lockhart had risen from his seat as well, apparently not fond of someone else being showered with praise in his presence.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! You know, I would be simply _delighted_ to whip up a batch of Mandrake Restorative Draught. Could make the thing in my sleep, I dare say--”

“Excuse me,” Snape cut in coldly, setting his teacup down with an audible clack, “I believe _I_ am the Potion Master of this school.”

Before Lockhart could respond, Mr. Jacobi threw his hands up and grinned in a way that spelled out far too much mischief.

“Severus! So marvelous to see you again so soon.” Ezra winked, causing a fresh wave of whispers to erupts around the hall. “I, of course, would be only too happy to defer to your greater skill. But I would be most honored if you’d allow me to assist, at the very least.”

Snape scowled.

“Is... is he _flirting_ with Professor Snape?” Blaise asked incredulously.

“He always acts like that,” Harry shrugged, not giving it much thought, “I think he just likes pushing his buttons.”

“Oh he’d like to push something, alright.” Blaise muttered into his coffee, Harry rolled his eyes.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr.--Jacobi was is?” Dumbledore cut in before Snape could refuse the offer. “I think Severus would gladly accept the help, what with all his other responsibilities taking up so much of his free time.”

“Headmaster...”

“Now, now, Severus. No need to fret, I am quite sure between the two of you, the potion shall be ready in no time.”

Harry had to hand it to the old man, even if he only suspected the Potion Master’s hand in this, he was quick enough to take advantage of the situation before him. He clearly knew that Snape did not need or want assistance in this, but it was just another little way to regain some of the perceived control he may have lost. Turning things around to seem as if he’d fully approved of and encouraged the interference with his school. 

“Now, I do believe that is just about enough excitement for this early hour. Severus, why don’t you and Pomona escort our guest to the greenhouses. I’m sure his cargo would appreciate the change in accommodations.”

Snape gave a sharp nod before abandoning his breakfast and leading the way swiftly from the hall. Sprout and Ezra on his heels, chatting amicably while the crate floated along behind them.

“Well,” Millicent grunted around a mouthful of ham and eggs, “that was certainly entertaining.”

Harry snorted, digging into his own breakfast proper. He saved a few potatoes for Jax to eat later, the snake would be sorry he slept through that, but hopefully they’d see Mr. Jacobi again soon.

~~~~~~~>

The rest of the day was one of the better ones since the dueling club incident. The news that a cure was soon incoming seemed to raise the spirits of the entire student body. They were looking forward towards a solution, not around for someone to blame.

Harry managed to catch up with Mr. Jacobi after his last class of the day (Charms, in which he'd successfully managed to get a stream of delicate little bubbles to float around the air above him in an intricate, if slightly shaky, dance. He'd even been able to color them a deep translucent purple, which earned him a round of excited clapping and ten points from Flitwick). The man had done away with his heavy winter cloak and was dressed in his usual robes. He was standing outside the entrance to Snape's office with a consternated look and Harry could well imagine the source.

“He kick you out already?” Harry teased.

Mr. Jacobi turned to him with a fond smile and a shrug.

“That man just does not know how to take a compliment. I swear, one moment you're skinning banana slugs and the next you make a simple comment on how well-fitted those teaching robes are and you're suddenly being forced from the room.”

Harry snorted.

“So what are you three up to?”

“Looking for you, actually.” Harry answered. “I wanted to see how you were doing, and how long the potion would take.”

“Oh I'm doing fine. It's nice to be back here, nostalgic. Had tea with Flitwick earlier. It was a bit strange, like I've come full circle, though maybe it's just that I'm getting old.” Ezra sighed in a put upon fashion that had Harry holding back another snort.

“As for the potion, hmm.” He ran a hand over his shaved head in a gesture Harry was familiar with meaning the man was thinking something over. “I'd say a week and a half at most, this one can be a bit finicky. But don't worry, I'm sure Master Snape will have no trouble.”

“Are you going to be staying at Hogwarts, then?” Blaise asked.

“The Headmaster has generously offered to put me up at The Hog’s Head, down in the village.” Ezra chuckled, “I'm fairly certain he thinks it a bit of fun, but I've no problem roughing it a little and made sure to thank him profusely for the privilege.”

Harry gathered the pub was probably not of the best standard, but he liked the idea of Mr. Jacobi sticking close to hand despite that.

“Between you and me,” The man bent down a bit to whisper conspiratorially, “Severus really doesn't need the help, but it's far too entertaining to resist.”

That earned a round of quiet laughs, and Ezra gave them a wink.

“Now, where is little Jax?” He asked, scanning Harry as if trying to spot where the serpent might be hiding.

Harry opened up his bag, showing Mr. Jacobi the sleeping snake, coiled up on top of Harry’s green and silver scarf in his partition.

“He always sleeps more in the winter time, even if he's warm. Although, it's hasn't been as bad as previous years. I think as he matures more, he won't feel the urge to sleep away the whole season.” Which would only be a good thing, it got a bit lonely without all the hissed commentary. Although it wasn't so bad now that he had a Blaise and Millicent.

“Ah. Well, how about you tell me about your year so far? Besides all the petrification and scares.”

So Harry spent an enjoyable hour catching up with Mr. Jacobi. They moved away from Snape’s door, so as not to incur any wrath by disturbing the man while he was working. And instead took a stroll around the school. Ezra pointing out spots he used to hang around, and telling stories of the mischief he would get into. Harry in turn sharing how his classes were going and explaining about his fight with Malfoy that led to his secret being spilled and everyone now thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin.

Mr. Jacobi had laughed out right at that.

“They think that? Really? Besides the fact that you're famous for defeating a great evil when you were a _baby_ , anyone that spends even a modicum of time with you should see that you'd never even hurt a fly. Let alone prowl around attacking the other students and writing threatening messages on walls.”

Harry gave a self-deprecating smile, “You'd think that, but I'm afraid everyone else disagrees.”

Mr. Jacobi huffed in annoyance, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, it's their loss. I can't abide willful ignorance, but it's at least useful in pointing out who is too easily influenced and manipulated. A good sense to have in any situation.”

“And you were in Ravenclaw?” Blaise asked, slyly. Ezra just gave him a wink.

All in all, things looked to be taking a turn for the better. With a cure on the horizon and the holiday break approaching rapidly, the mood in the castle seemed to be lifted.

Harry should have expected something to happen, given his luck.

But when Justin Finch-Fletchley was found petrified before an equally incapacitated Bloody Baron a few days later, all he could manage was an overwhelming sense of dread.

~~~~~~~>

Dumbledore made the official announcement at dinner that night, but word had spread like wildfire throughout the school far before then. A Slytherin fifth year had stumbled upon Justin and the frozen Baron and had rushed to find Snape. Only to return to find a crowd of panicking Ravenclaw first years on their way to class surrounding the bodies.

The gossip had spread quickly after that, causing an uptick in the amount of dirty looks thrown Harry’s way and a dark foreboding air to fall around the school. 

No matter how many times he told them he'd been in Herbology at the time, or the amount of knuckle-cracking Millicent did in their faces, people still hissed and glared; one particularly angry Hufflepuff going so far as to knock into him roughly as they passed in the corridor. Harry had hunched his shoulders and refused to let how much it affected him show on his face, but inside he was burning.

Dinner was a somber affair, not even Mr. Jacobi (sitting between Snape and Sinistra up at the teacher’s table) could manage so much as a smile. Harry watched as the man spoke quietly with the Potion Master, an unusually somber expression on his face. Snape, for once, was simply listening and answering back without the familiar Ezra-induced scowl. No, the frown he wore had thinned his mouth to a pale line and Harry could see the force with which he grasped his goblet all the way from the Slytherin table.

“What has the power to petrify a _ghost_?” Greengrass whispered from a few spots down, she looked paler than usual, her ordinarily styled hair a bit of a mess.

“Can't be anything good.” Parkinson muttered back, poking at her salad but not actually eating any. “What I want to know is why Slytherin’s Heir went after the Slytherin House ghost in the first place. I mean, it’s obvious why that mud-- _muggleborn_ Hufflepuff was targeted. But the Bloody Baron? It makes no sense.”

She had a point, Harry thought, even if she'd nearly slipped and made a grave error in voicing her true opinions on blood status. Why _had_ the Baron been affected, and _how_? And could a ghost even take a potion? Or would he be frozen forever, trapped even more than he'd been as a walking spirit.

Harry pushed his plate away, what little appetite he'd had gone.

The next week was daunting to say the least. Despite his resolve not to let the options of the other students affect him, Harry could not help feeling shunned and hated. He ended up skipping more meals than he attended, spending them in the kitchens with the house elves. Blaise and Millicent joined him, much to his relief. The elves didn't mind him being there, all too happy to ply him with extra treats and specially prepared dishes. No matter that he hardly had the appetite for them.

It was one of the few bright spots left, and Harry made sure to add a few things onto his next shipment for the elves.

Not even his study group seemed comfortable around him anymore, even with the fact of Justin scoffing at all the rumors mere days before the attack.

When Harry had set his books down on their usual library table, Patil had paled slightly and muttered something about having to meet her sister before running off quick enough to gain a reprimand from Madam Pince. Sue Li hadn't even shown up.

“ _Don't let it get to you._ ” Blaise had murmured darkly in Italian, setting his own books down next to Harry’s. “ _You know it all bullshit, and when Justin wakes up he'll confirm just as much._ ”

Harry had only sighed and listlessly flipped through his copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ , in the vain hope that he'd be able to find some sort of answer.

About thirty minutes later Neville had flopped down at the table with a huff, his normally jovial face stiff with anger. Harry eyed him warily.

“It's not right.” He said without prompting, glaring not at Harry, but across the library at what looked to be Granger’s study group. Although the only one seeming to be doing so was Granger herself. The rest of the Gryffindors were having a hushed conversation and sending not so subtle glowers in Harry’s direction.

“It's not right,” The boy repeated, “what they're saying about you. It's utter rubbish and anyone with eyes should be able to see that.”

Harry felt a sudden rush of fondness for the Gryffindor and managed a weak smile.

“Thanks, Neville.”

He just huffed again and started pulling out his work.

“Have you finished that essay for Binns yet? I've only managed half a foot, I keep falling asleep in that class, how is anyone supposed to keep track of so many goblin chiefs when they killed each other off so frequently?”

Harry gladly pushed aside all his other worries to work on History, happy he'd offered to tutor Neville all that time ago.

~~~~~~~>

It was as he and Jax were taking a shower that it hit him.

Snakes.

Slytherin House’s symbol was a serpent, it was all over the common room and dorms. The school crest was a snake, and Salazar Slytherin himself was a Parselmouth. An ability that was hereditary, no doubt passed down in his line for generations. If he were to make a secret room, he wouldn't want just anyone to be able to find it. It was probably hidden away behind a wall or in a dark corner, somewhere out of the way.

The entrance to the Slytherin common room was only marked by a small carving of a serpent into the stone, the door only appearing after one spoke the password. Not like Gryffindor Tower, where everybody knew it was behind a portrait of The Fat Lady. Or the Hufflepuffs that hid through a row of barrels that had no reason to be there other than to hide a secret.

The Ravenclaws seemed least secure of all, from what Harry had gathered from Mr. Jacobi. You just needed to answer a riddle and you'd be let through.

No, Slytherin would have been much more subtle, more clever than that.

Harry shared his thoughts with Jax as the serpent wriggled around in the warm water by his feet.

“ _That makes sense._ ” Jax agreed, “ _So we should start looking for snake carving_?”

“ _It's worth a shot at least. But maybe we should wait until the break, that way we have more time to search._ ” And less people on sneer at him as they did so.

Another bright spot in the week had been when he'd sat in on the Sixth year potion lesson. The one about developing moving photographs. It had been a fascinating lecture, and a class much smaller in size than Harry had expected.

Snape had seemed, not _softer_ really, but more enthused about teaching the older students than he ever really got about Harry’s yearmates. He answered questions with far less of a glare and volunteered advice in a far clearer way than Harry had ever seen, outside of times they had brewed together over the summer.

He guessed it made a difference, teaching students who actually wanted to learn rather than being forced. Sixth year was when the class became optional, and Harry know for a fact that Snape was very strict on who he permitted into it.

Harry hadn't been allowed to actually make the development potion, but Snape had let him help demonstrate how to use it. Harry brought along a roll of film he'd recently filled with pictures of his friends and the grounds around Hogwarts specifically with this in mind, not wanting to risk any of his earlier, more irreplaceable, shots if he messed up.

As Snape sternly guided his movements in the darkened classroom, the only light surrounding them an eerie red, slowly the smirking form of Blaise lounging on a couch in the Slytherin common room appeared on the larger prepared sheet. At first, nothing seemed to be happening, but after a few moments, the image of Blaise twitched and started turning a page in his book. The fire in the background was flickering and Harry could see a swish of robes as another student walked by, just barely out of frame.

“An excellent demonstration, Mr. Potter. Remember to leave it in the solution for a minimum of five minutes, or else the sheet will not absorb enough of the potion to make a lasting impression.” Snape hitched an eyebrow at the class still gathered around the basin, “Well? Get to work, you all have your brews ready, I expect a viable outcome by the end of the hour.”

The class scrambled back to their cauldrons, and Harry saw the amused glint in Snape's eye, no matter how the man might wish to hide it.

“Thank you sir, for letting come in today.” Harry murmured, giving the basin a little swish per the instructions, miniature Blaise had set aside his book and was now cleaning his nails.

“It is not a privilege I extend to many.” Snape told him, eyes scanning the room for any potential missteps. “I see a potential in you, Mr. Potter. A keenness not only for the learning of the craft, but also the Art of it. It is a rare enough gift, and I should know, given the sheer number of dunderheads that are foisted upon me year after year. It is something I strive to encourage whenever I see it, however infrequently that be.”

There was suddenly a lump in his throat, making anything Harry might wish to say impossible. Snape was gracious enough not to mention it and left him to gather his thoughts while taking a loop around the room to check in on the other students work.

By the end class, Harry had developed three pictures. The one of Blaise, another of Millicent flying around the Quidditch Pitch in her team uniform, and one of Jax coiled up in Mr. Jacobi’s lap as the man smiled and stroked his smooth scales shooting the camera a wink.

The other students were successful to varying degrees. One’s photo of their friend waving was a bit jerky in the motions, and another seemed oddly sped up. The lone Gryffindor’s in the room was smoking slightly at the edges, but seemed reasonably well done otherwise.

It made Harry want to try his own hand at brewing the potion, to see how well his might turn out. To figure out the method behind why it made the photos move at all. And if the types of Charms laid out on the film and sheets beforehand had just as much of a part in making the process work as the solution. It was a fascinating blend of magical schools and Harry could not wait until they started doing more complicated things in his own class.

He stayed behind to help Snape with the cleanup. Asking more questions about what other things used a mixture of different types of magic workings. Snape, surprisingly, answered them all with a patience that astonished Harry after he realized how long he'd been babbling. He apologized, but the Potion Master just waved it away.

“The pursuit of knowledge is an important one, Harry. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I do try and encourage it every once in a while.”

It was said with the sort of dry amusement that Harry had become accustomed to over the summer, but rarely heard within the walls of the castle. It felt like a sort of privilege in itself to witness and he happily let Snape escort him to the Slytherin common room with another promise of putting aside some time over the holiday to develop more of his photos, if Harry so wished. It sounded like the perfect sort of present to him.

~~~~~~~>

The animosity did not lessen as the week slowly crawled by. Glares and hisses followed him around the corridors and if not for the continued silent presence of the rest of his House, Harry had no doubt it would have escalated to violence all too quickly. Neville took to hanging around them, and glaring back at his own scarlet clad yearmates in a warm showing of solidarity that Harry appreciated far more than he could express.

It was a relief then, when Dumbledore announced that the Mandrake Restorative Draught had finished and been administered to the victims, a few days before winter break was to start. There had been an enthusiastic round of applause, and the Headmaster had let it go on for far longer than Harry would have expected. A glance at Sprout showed the Hufflepuff Head of House dabbing at her eye with a napkin. McGonagall looked just as relieved, the lines at the corner of her mouth not quite so severely down turned.

Dumbledore then requested that any wellwisher to please refrain from bombarding the hospital wing, as the students in question would not be ready for visitors until the morning at least.

Harry suspected it was more that Dumbledore wanted to question them, more than anything, but could not really fault the old man the logic. He'd go to the hospital wing early the next morning in any case, as he was worried about Justin and felt guilty that Creevey had been attacked while trying to visit him.

He still wondered how a ghost was going to take a potion. Did the petrification make the Baron more solid? Or would they have to sort of _mist_ it over him and hope for the best? He'd have to ask Snape. Or maybe Mr. Jacobi, the man seemed more likely to discuss patient details without incurring a lecture on proprietary and minding one's own business. Snape let Harry get away with quite a few questions, but he doubted that extended to snooping about current residents in the hospital wing.

The good news was at least enough to allow Harry to slip away from the Great Hall without much notice. And they spent a quiet couple hours up in the library, working on a Charms essay. Well, Harry was working on it. Millicent had finished her’s the night before and Blaise was busy flipping through a wizarding fashion catalog, alternatively scoffing at or considering what he saw. He managed to get Millicent’s help with, although she huffed and looked put upon any time Harry asked a question. He could tell she really didn't mind though, or the girl wouldn't have bothered to answer. Harry let her keep up the facade, because the faces she made when he asked a particularly obtuse question on purpose were amusing.

It was as he was about to follow Blaise into the common room later that he heard the voice.

“ _...hunger... let me kill... let me feed..._ ”

“Harry?” Blaise asked, giving him a questioning look as he stood halfway through the door.

“I think I forgot something in the library.” He fibbed, stepping fully back into the corridor. “I'll be right back.”

“I'll come with you.”

“ _hunt, let me hunt..._ ”

“No,” Harry insisted, trying to keep one ear out for the snake and also not give away his lie. He didn’t want Blaise getting into trouble, it was nearly curfew. “It’s fine, I’ll be quick.”

“If you’re sure.” His friend said slowly, eyeing him like he did not quite believe Harry but was willing to go with it anyway.

Before the other boy could change his mind, Harry turned on his heel and heading back towards the upper levels. As soon as he hit a corner away from any prying eyes he took the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and unfurled the slippery material. Harry had taken to carrying the Cloak around, in case he needed to hide from any particularly vindictive students. He had to keep it in his pocket though, because the powerful magic of it still made Jax sneeze a bit and disturbed his rest if he had to share such close quarters with it. Luckily the thing folded up pretty small.

He threw the Cloak around his shoulders and started heading in the direction of the voice again. He had to carefully dodge around a couple Gryffindor Prefects doing rounds before he made it to a passage that led quickly to the upper floors. The snake was still calling out, sounding desperate and Harry upped his pace. He sped past the sight of the first attack and its message still splashed across the stones, despite all of Filch's efforts to the contrary. And up further still until he was almost to the sixth floor, where the voice tapered off before sounding again. Faint, as if it had moved down again, towards the dungeons.

How was it getting around so quickly?

Harry turned to head back down the stairs, determined. He was led on a circuitous route back down through the castle, ending up in a corridor far too close to Snape’s office than he would prefer. He turned a corner only to nearly slip and fall in a puddle of slick wetness covering the flagstones in front of an open classroom door. He caught himself just barely and looked down at what he’d stepped in.

It looked like a large cauldron’s worth of potion, it gave off a faint medicinal smell and shimmered a bit in the torchlight. Following the flow of the liquid, Harry saw what he’d thought was a darkened classroom was actually a potions lab. And looking around, he realized it was _Snape’s_ laboratory. He remembered it from last winter when the man had let Harry do some experimenting under supervision.

This wasn’t good. Nobody was supposed to be able to get into this room without the Potion Master’s say so. Harry carefully stepped forward through the doorway, being sure to avoid as much of the puddle as possible; he didn't want to give himself away. He probably shouldn't even be going that far, but a burning curiosity had lodged itself in him and Harry needed to see.

He regretted it as soon as he spotted the body on the floor.

Harry froze in his tracks, clutching at the folds of the Cloak in a desperate need to make sure he was still hidden. The body was sprawled stiffly across the wash of potion, face down but still recognizable as Percy Weasley. The prefect must have been investigating the same disturbance and been attacked.

Cautiously, Harry crept forward enough to nudge one of Weasley’s legs with a foot. It was too stiff to move and Harry left out a relieved sigh, just petrified then.

Before he could do anything else though, there was the sound of rushed footsteps in the corridor outside. Harry moved quietly into a dark corner, nearly forgetting he was still invisible.

Snape stepped through the open doorway, wand raised and eyes sweeping the room. They fell briefly on Weasley, before darting away. A flick of his wand had the torches lining the walls ignite and light the room, chasing away all the shadows. Apparently satisfied the room was empty, the Potion Master finally knelt down beside Weasley and checked the prefect over, a severe frown firmly in place.

“Go and fetch Professor McGonagall, Perkins.” Snape said over his shoulder to somebody out in the corridor. “And the Headmaster, inform them there has been another attack.”

“Y-yes, sir.” A female voice stuttered, before the sound of swiftly retreating footsteps.

Snape stood up and waved his wand again, vanishing the ruined potion and glaring around the room once more. Harry had to clap a hand over his mouth when he saw the message scrawled across the far wall in the same foot-high red letters as before.

YOU CAN NOT STOP THE CLEANSING  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR WILL BE DEALT WITH

Snape walked up to the wall and glared at the paint (Merlin, Harry hoped it was paint), as if he could burn away the words with his eyes alone.

“Severus? What has happ--” McGonagall cut herself off with a gasp, rushing into the room to kneel by the prone body of Weasley.

“Only petrified, Minerva.” Snape murmured, not looking away from the message. Harry would think him callous if not for the obvious shaking in the man's fingers as he touched the wall.

“You have more of the Drought, correct?”

“I am afraid not, it seems whoever attacked Mr. Weasley was here to dispose of it. I suspect your lion attempted to intervene and was dispatched.”

McGonagall sighed, patting the neatly combed red hair atop Weasley’s head. An oddly tender gesture from the normally austere witch.

Dumbledore arrived then, his eyes thankfully twinkle free as he took in the scene, gaze pausing only briefly on Weasley before landing on the wall.

“Another message?”

Snape did not reply, the answer obvious. The Headmaster stepped up next to the Potion Master and studied the words.

“It seems we have angered this Heir, perhaps it would have been better to wait until we had apprehended them.”

Snape’s mouth tightened, but he remained silent on the matter. Harry could perfectly imagine his thoughts on _that_ opinion. McGonagall was not so withholding, however.

“Rubbish, Albus. I refuse to give in to petty threats and fear mongering.” She had regained her feet and was glaring at the Headmaster in such a severe fashion that Harry wished he could melt back into the stone wall to avoid any crossfire that may happen. “We will continue to brew the Draught, as many times as is required, until the culprit is found. I refuse to bow before an invisible force that targets _children_.”

The Headmaster looked mildly taken aback, raising a hand to stroke his long beard in an obvious play for time while he formulated what was sure to be a placating response. But before he could say anything Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, looking slightly out of breath and the sort of forcefully concerned that usually ended in long stays in the hospital wing and stern lectures about the importance of taking care of oneself.

“Just how long were you planning to leave the boy there, honestly?” She huffed, waving her wand with a murmur, conjuring a stretcher. “It's a good thing Minerva thought to send Perkins over to me or I doubt I'd have been informed in any sort of timely manner.”

She levitated Weasley onto the litter, turning him so that he was face up at last. He had an odd expression, somewhere between indignation, shock, and fear. His horn rimmed glasses were cracked across one lens and were dangling off an ear. McGonagall carefully removed the spectacles, stowing them in a pocket of her tartan robes while Madam Pomfrey continued to mutter to herself and fuss over the placement of Weasley’s awkwardly sprawled limbs.

“Apologies, Poppy.” Snape finally spoke again, turning his back on the wall and its grisly message. “I should have sent for you as well when I discovered what had set off my wards.”

“I should think so, Severus.” Pomfrey huffed, “I'm here now in any case. Do you have more of the Drought?”

“No, unfortunately.” He told her what had happened and the mediwitch’s expression grew stonier by the second, until it almost seemed she was petrified herself.

“You'll of course be making more? I believe that Jacobi lad brought more than enough mandrakes to suffice.”

“Certainly.” Snape said with a small nod, “It will just take time. I'm afraid young Mr. Weasley will have to stay here over the break.”

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, but the man seemed as if he did not want to dispute the plan, in spite of his earlier misgivings. Apparently realizing he'd be vastly outnumbered if he tried.

“It seems we shall have to entertain our guest a couple of weeks longer, then.” The Headmaster said instead, “I am sure you two will continue to work together splendidly.”

He clapped Snape on the shoulder, ignoring the dark look sent in the old man's direction.

“For now, I think it best we keep this new development between us. No need to cause unnecessary panic.”

That at least was something everyone could agree with. While it would be impossible to hide the news of Weasley’s petrification, no one needed to know about the new message splashed across the wall of Snape’s private workroom.

The adults talked for a few moments more before the Headmaster took his leave, followed by Pomfrey and the floating stretcher, McGonagall stepping out after. Not wanting to be caught, or sealed into the room, Harry quietly followed. He glanced back at Snape, who was righting the tipped cauldron and frowning. He wanted to comfort the man, but knew he'd never be able to without giving away that he'd been there.

With an internal sigh, Harry headed back to the Slytherin dorms and the most restless night of sleep he'd had in a long time.


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning Harry wasted no time informing his friends of what he'd witnessed. Although leaving out the part about owning an Invisibility Cloak and just making out like he'd listened at the door. They’d both looked worried at the news of a pureblood being attacked, even if it happened to be a Weasley. It clearly showed nobody in the school was safe, at least no one that openly defied this Heir.

Which begged the question: how far did one have to go to be considered an enemy? Percy Weasley was from a family well known for their inclusive views, which could be considered counter to what the Heir of Slytherin felt correct. But Weasley himself had always seemed a bit set apart from the rest of his siblings, from what Harry could tell. Studious, rule abiding to a fault, and performing his prefect duties with an unbiased levelness that was rare to see. Harry had often witnessed Weasley taking points from his own House. Although those had mostly been from the twins, Harry felt that showed even more of a commitment on the prefect’s part.

It just did not seem to add up that Weasley could have been a real hindrance. And it was obviously more likely that what Snape had suggested was true: Weasley had stumbled upon something he should not have and was used as an example. It did not bode well for anyone if this Heir was so indiscriminate about whom it hurt.

They skipped breakfast in lieu of going to visit Justin in the hospital wing. The Hufflepuff looked as if he had just woken up, his dark brown hair tousled from sleep, but still very much awake and not a bit petrified.

“Hey guys!” Justin beamed up at them, “Did you come to visit? That's so nice. Do you want a chocolate frog? Ernie brought ‘em by earlier. But then he started spouting off about you, Harry, so I kicked him out.”

Well, at least the petrification hadn't seemed to dampen the boy’s spirits much. They each took a frog.

“What were you doing down in the dungeons all by yourself?” Harry asked, unwrapping the treat and barely catching it before the frog made a bid for freedom.

Justin flushed, looking sheepish.

“Me mum had sent my walkman, I was going to ask Snape, like you said. I figured he probably didn't want a whole bunch of Hufflepuffs crowding up his office.”

Millicent rolled her eyes and Harry had the distinct urge to palm his face.

“Yeah, I realized how dumb that was when a great bloody snake tried to eat me.”

“A snake?” Harry asked, more sharply than he meant to.

“Oops, prolly wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Dumbledore said something about keeping things quiet.” Justin looked guilty now, fingering his blanket.

“Well,” Blaise reasoned, with a bit of a charming smile, “you've already said as much, might as well tell us what happened.” 

The Hufflepuff blinked, then shrugged, “Yeah, alright. I was walking down to Snape's office when I came across the Bloody Baron, nearly scared me half to death. He started scolding me about sneaking about and then this gigantic snake comes ‘round the corner. It was _massive_ , could’a swallowed me whole, no problem.”

“What happened next?” Harry asked when Justin turned pale and stopped speaking, staring off into the middle distance.

He continued again after a moment, voice losing some of its chipperness.

“I just remember seeing a pair of giant, glowing eyes. Next thing I know, I wake up here to Snape glaring down at me and Sprout practically smothering me with hugs.”

Before Harry could ask anything else, the hospital wing was bombarded by a swarm of Weasleys. The whole flock of redheads bursting through the door and looking around frantically before practically falling upon a curtained off bed.

“Oh, Perce...” One of the twins muttered, after pulling back the screen. For once, Harry could not even hear a hint of joking in the tone.

The girl, Ginny? She looked on the verge of tears, hands clapped over her mouth. She seemed far more exhausted than she should have, even if she'd learned of the attack on her brother the night before. The stress of the last few months must have been getting to her. It can't have been fun, one of your yearmates getting petrified and everyone else in the castle on edge. There were dark smudges under her eyes and she looked pale. Harry could sympathize, he knew what it was like to lose so much sleep.

He thought about giving his condolences but figured it probably would not be welcome. An opinion proven correct when Ron Weasley glanced over to see them. His face flushed an angry red, a scowl twisting his features as he broke away from the group to stomp over.

“What are _you_ doing here? Come to gloat over my brother? To laugh?” Weasley’s voice was harsh and loud, but Harry managed to hold back an instinctive flinch and simply shook his head.

“Why’d you do it, huh? What have we ever done to you? Slimy Slytherin, I ought to--”

“Oi!”

“Hey!”

A clamour of voices sounded off. Justin in the bed beside him and, surprisingly, Ginny Weasley. Who stalked over and slapped her brother upside the head in what looked to be a familiar motion.

“You leave him alone, Ron!” The girl’s voice was thick, and her eyes red with unshed tears, but her stance left no room for questioning.

“But Ginny, he can talk to _snakes_.” Apparently Ron Weasley was not the best at picking up cues.

“So? Do you really think The-Boy-Who-Lived has been running around terrorizing the school? The same one who defeated You-Know-Who?”

“Well-- but--” Weasley sputtered, looking angry and confused and for something to aim that at. Harry refused to be that sounding board.

“I was here when the first one happened, getting all the bones in my arm regrown.” Harry reminded him in as level a voice as he could manage. “And Herbology when Justin got hurt.”

“Yeah, Ronikins,” The twins had wandered over and were bracketing their younger brother, mock disappointed looks on their faces. “Leave the poor savior alone.”

“What about Percy?” The boy tried again with Gryffindorish tenacity. “And Mrs. Norris? Where were you last night, huh? And on Halloween, you were at the scene first!”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I was in _bed_ last night.” He leveled Ron Weasley with an unimpressed look. “And I was not at the Halloween feast because I find it difficult to celebrate the night my parents were _murdered_. Not that it is any of your business.”

Weasley’s face turned a weird mottled color as if he'd tried to flush and pale at the same time. It had quieted the boy at least.

“Oh well done, Ron.” The other twin scoffed, pushing down on his brother's head to force him out of the group that had formed around Justin’s bed.

“Our deepest apologies, O Great Savior. Our brother can be a bit of a--”

“Twit?”

“Prat?”

“Flaming dungbomb?”

The twins went back a forth for a moment, insults getting more elaborate until Harry finally cracked a smile, which seemed to be what the older boys were looking for in any case.

“I'm sorry about Percy.” He nodded to where Ron Weasley had retreated and the far too stiff figure on the bed. “Snape will have him right again in no time.”

“Oh, no doubt about that. Even if the man can be a right bastard, no offense to you snakes, we know he’ll do right. If only to stick it to whoever messed with the first batch.” Twin one commented, Harry really should figure out a way to tell them apart. Not even the fuzzy, lettered jumpers helped, as Harry figured it was probably just their kind of humor to switch them about.

“I'll be sure to pass on the compliments.” Harry deadpanned, which earned a pair of wicked grins.

“You’re alright, Potter.” And with that, they stepped back over to join Ron.

“Ginny?” He turned towards the girl, who had been quietly staring after her little outburst, she startled a bit. “It is Ginny, right?”

“Y-yeah.” She flushed, and Harry was confused at the sudden change in her demeanor. The girl must have been more out of it than he thought.

“Thanks, for earlier.”

She darkened further and let out an odd squeaking sound that could possibly be interpreted as acknowledgment, if one were being generous. Then she scampered away to presumably hide behind the twins.

“That was odd.” Harry murmured, bewildered.

Blaise just snorted and shook his head in exasperation.

“What?”

“I'll tell you when you're older.”

“We’re the same age!”

Now both Millicent and Justin were giggling quietly.

Harry huffed and folded his arms. Whatever, they could keep their secrets.

All the noise had drawn the attention of Madam Pomfrey anyway, and she came bustling out of her office to scold them all for making a racket around her patients. Which in turn finally woke up Creevey, who started chattering excitedly the second he caught sight of Harry. Prompting the mediwitch to shoo them out for causing such a disruption. Harry didn't mind so much, still feeling a bit guilty about the littlest Gryffindor being there in the first place.

“Come on,” Millicent grunted, “I bet there's still time for breakfast.”

~~~~~~~>

News spread quickly that the Monster of Slytherin was a giant snake. Given Creevey’s tendency to talk nonstop and Justin being a bit careless with his words, it was bound to happen. Coupled with the news of Prefect Weasley being attacked, it meant the last few days before break were exceedingly tense to say the least.

There was an understandable rush for the train on the morning of, and Harry watched the majority of the school filing past the Great Hall doors from his place at the Slytherin table while slowly making his way through a bowl of porridge.

There were even fewer students staying on this year than last, the majority being from his own House in the form of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle; along with a few studious upper years. And the Weasleys, who had all chosen to stay on to watch over their brother. At the Ravenclaw table, Harry only spotted a lone sixth year, and Hufflepuff had what looked to be a pair of twin fifth years. Harry wondered vaguely what was keeping them here, as they did not look too enthused watching the rest of their classmates walk past. Maybe they also had nowhere to go.

Blaise had wanted to stay but said his mother insisted he come home. Apparently she was courting again and wished Blaise to meet the new man. Blaise had rolled his eyes at the letter and sighed dramatically, promising to send Harry more pastries from home at the very least.

Millicent’s father had also demanded her presence, stating that her uncles were coming to visit. She'd tried to argue and received a bluntly worded refusal, which showed Harry where she got that tendency from.

And so Harry was to be stuck here alone. Except, of course, Malfoy would be here too. Harry had no idea why he wasn't at his manor, primping for his family’s winter ball. Or being waited on hand and foot by an army of house elves. Instead he was here, invading the quietest time Harry had had to himself all year.

Harry pushed back from the table, annoyed. Now was as good a time as any to get started on the winter assignments.

~~~~~~~>

Basilisk.

The Monster of Slytherin was a basilisk. Harry pulled the large encyclopedia of magical and non-magical serpents closer. He had found the book on one of the lower shelves in the common room and had snatched it up. He and Jax had been flipping through it for the last hour in front of the fire. Although Jax had mostly been looking at the moving pictures and occasionally making Harry read out the passages aloud.

According to the book, basilisks were known as the King of Serpents. They could grow up to fifty feet long and lived for hundreds of years.

He eyed Jax, hoping that his friend did have any basilisk in him. As much as he would love the extended lifespan, Harry did not know what he would do with a fifty foot serpent that threw off sparks every time he shed. That would not end well. Plus, Jax seemed to be aging fine. He wasn't yet out of his juvenile phase, as far as Harry could tell. And it had taken the snake literal _years_ to outgrow Harry’s pocket. He wasn't too worried about Jax dying of old age anytime soon. It was not something he liked dwelling on in any case.

“ _Are there feathers on that snake? What kind of self respecting serpent has_ feathers?” Jax poked at the image of the basilisk rearing up with his snout, hissing full of snakey derision.

“ _The kinds that are as big as the Hogwarts Express and can kill you just by looking._ ”

“ _Oh..._ ” Jax shrank back from the book a bit, purple gem eyes wide.

“ _If it kills you by looking, then why is everyone petrified?_ ”

A good question. He read further into the passage.

“ _It says here that if you see its eyes indirectly, like through a reflection, then it causes petrification. The basilisk also has an extra set of eyelids that it can deploy that prevent even that side effect._ ” That was good to know, maybe he could convince them to not try and eat him, so Harry could help.

He felt a bit slow about how long it had taken him to connect the dots about his mysterious snake and the attacks. It had just sounded so desperate, he hadn't been think past trying to help. It made Harry even angrier, knowing that the serpent was being forced to attack the students. That it just wanted to hunt, to eat.

Not to say that Harry wanted the basilisk to start snacking on firsties, but there were other solutions. There was a while forest of creatures out there on the grounds, or food could be brought in. It seemed like the Heir was just using the serpent as a weapon and not caring for its well being at all.

“ _What do you say we go looking for the entrance_?”

Jax gave a wriggle that loosely translated to _sure, why not_. So Harry closed the book and took it to the dorm, stowing it away in his trunk for further reading later. He grabbed out the Invisibility Cloak, just in case, and filled his satchel with a few different foods.

Jax maneuvered up to his shoulders, happy enough to be getting some air although Harry would bet on him moving down to the pocket of his hoodie before too long, as cold as the corridors were.

Malfoy was just walking into the room as they were leaving. The blonde looked like he wanted to say something, but Harry brushed by before he could; not in the mood.

They started by walking the dungeons and keeping an eye out for any carvings or odd architectural choices. Both being surprisingly sparse until they started heading down deeper. The few portraits that lined the dungeon walls becoming even fewer and further between. The occupants usually sleeping or absent, or at least Harry assumed so, he doubted there would be so many painting of empty scenery or unoccupied houses. It must get lonely down there, where so few students dared tread.

The first carving they came across didn't react to any hissing on either of their parts, but an elaborately wrought wall sconce wriggled a bit and the torch it held gave a puff of silver smoke. Maybe the enchantment on it had worn off over the years, otherwise it was an odd thing to preserve.

The next thing was a painting of a sleek black snake basking on a sunny sand dune. When Harry greeted it, the snake just flicked an uninterested tail and continued to nap. He would have moved on if not for the soft _click_ that sounded a moment later. He hesitantly reached for the corner of the fame and pulled gently. It swung forward on squeaky hinges to reveal a dusty cubby hole with nothing but a few scraps of faded parchment and an empty potions vial.

As disappointing as the contents were, Harry made a note of the location. If he ever needed to hide something, that would be a pretty secure spot.

They continued on for a good few hours, not coming across much more. The most interesting thing being a cupboard hidden behind a wall damp from proximity to the Black Lake. Harry had almost missed it but for Jax spotting the moss (he hoped it was moss) covered carving on a high stone. He’d hissed at it to open and after a bit of grinding the stone wall slid sideways into itself. Harry was excited for about half a second until he saw what it was. He’d had enough of cupboards to last him quite long enough and gave the little room only a cursory once over. It held a (non-flying) broom, the bristles of which crumbled at a touch. A half-rusted bucket. And a shelf with a few bottles of mystery liquid that were probably cleaning solutions at one point but now looked more likely to burn a hole through anything you poured it on. Harry closed up the wall again and sighed.

“ _I don’t think we’re going to find anything down here._ ” He told Jax, who had indeed relocated to the big front pocket and its magically warmed confines.

The snake had his head poking out of one end, tasting the air.

“ _It smells like wet down here. Cold and wet. Let’s go back upstairs._ ”

“ _If Slytherin did make a Chamber, he probably wouldn’t have been so obvious as to hide it down in the dungeons anyway._ ” Plus, who’s to say that part of the castle was even around in the Founder’s age. The dungeons could have been expanded upon at any point in the last thousand years.

Apparently they had been down there a lot longer than he’d realized, because when Harry finally regained the more traveled corridors it was to find Snape stalking towards him with a deep scowl and his robes billowing that extra bit of menacing that meant Harry was in trouble.

“Er, hello, sir?” He tried for an innocent smile, but that just made Snape frown harder.

“Mr. Potter. Where exactly have you been?” The Potion Master stopped before him, arms crossed over his chest and black eyes glaring down his aquiline nose at Harry.

He shrugged, scuffing a booted foot along the flagstones, hands in his pocket alongside Jax.

“Just going for a walk. Malfoy was in the common room and it’s too cold outside to wander around out there.”

“A walk?” Snape quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. Harry should really work on emulating that, it was amazing what the man could convey with just his eyebrows. “For nearly the entire day? Whilst a murderous basilisk roams the castle? Have you taken leave of all your senses?”

“So it is a basilisk?” Harry latched onto the information, feeling validated.

Snape gave a disdainful snort, “What other giant serpent has the ability to petrify its victims? Of course it is a basilisk. I expect the Headmaster to instill a new cautionary measure that all students and staff carry around mirrors to counteract the threat. Which is entirely beside the point of you disappearing for hours without informing a single person to your intentions.”

Snape wasn’t _angry_ , Harry realized with a sudden clarity that left him blinking, he was _worried_.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make sure to say something next time.” He gave a tentative smile and the Potion Master must have seen the revelation on his face, because the man rolled his eyes and dropped his arms from their foreboding stance.

“See that you do. I would not be best pleased to come across you as I did Mr. Weasley.”

Harry felt a warm bubble of _something_ take up residence in his chest and fought to not let it show too plainly.

“I had my Cloak on me sir, if that makes it better?”

Snape hmm’d, “Marginally. Come now, it’s time for dinner, and I’ll not have you missing any more meals.”

The man placed a firm hand between Harry’s shoulders and guided them up towards the Great Hall, as if he were wary of Harry running off. He allowed the touch, that warm ball in his chest expanding to fill what felt like his entire being for the time it took them to reach the Hall. And even when Snape removed the hand to take his seat at the lone table residing there, the warmth only receded slightly, and Harry didn’t even mind when Malfoy took the spot opposite him.

~~~~~~~>

Abandoning their search of the dungeons, Harry and Jax instead concentrated on the upper floors. Starting from the ground and moving up only after thoroughly picking over every nook and cranny. He had asked Fitzy the house elf to check up on him periodically and then report to Snape that he was indeed just fine and completely unpetrified. It seemed to do the trick because the Potion Master never came swooping in looking for him or demanding he stay in the common room or library or other more secure areas. He must share the opinion that the Heir would not dare make a move with so few people inside the castle. It would be too much of a giveaway.

Although that did beg the question of why Snape had been so worried that first day. Irrationality and the Potion Master were not something that mixed well in Harry’s mind. But perhaps there was some deeper aspect he was just not catching onto. Emotional connections had never been his strong suit, something he’d thought he had in common with Snape. Or maybe he was just overthinking things and so pushed the thoughts from his head and continued his search of a disused classroom on the backend of the ground floor.

He hadn’t found anything so far, besides a painting of Hydra that when Harry greeted it insisted on reciting an entire epic poem. A cappella. It would have been pretty impressive, if the story hadn’t been a Greek Tragedy. And so ended up being a bit disconcerting, the upbeat singing a strong counterpoint to the death and destruction happening in the narrative. Jax had seemed to enjoy it though, bobbing along and hissing his excited compliments when the Hydra finished. Harry thanked the painting and moved on before his snake could demand an encore.

It took two full days of searching before Harry felt he could move on to the next floor. The only thing he’d really discovered so far was that there seemed to be a _lot_ of empty classrooms. He wondered if the magical population had dwindled drastically, or if it was due to global expansion. Or maybe the school had once also housed families along with students. It couldn’t have been very safe a few hundred years ago, when it was still common practice to burn witches. Hogwarts had probably been one of the only magical schools for a long time and most likely needed the space. But once more institutions started cropping up, the rooms had fallen into disuse.

On the second floor, he found a brass ouroboros embedded into a pillar that turned into a doorknob when he asked politely. The piller’s face swung open with a bit of effort to show his best find so far: a few shelves of neatly stacked books. They were a little dusty, but seemed to have been under a fairly strong preservation charm, as they were obviously old but not faded or warn like some of the books in the library.

Jax poked around on one of the shelves, sniffing and nudging at the tomes, and giving the occasional sneeze. While Harry pulled one iron and leather bound book down and started flipping through it.

Definitely old, given the amount of thee's and thou’s. But it was at least English.

It seemed to be the journal of an aspiring Transfiguration Master. Filled with diagrams and complex theories that Harry could not begin to understand. Sue Li would no doubt find the book fascinating, Harry should--

He snapped the book closed, a cloud of dark emotion settling over him as he remembered that Sue Li wasn’t talking to him right then. He hadn’t seen the Ravenclaw since the dueling club incident. Harry didn’t know if the girl thought he was the Heir, or if she just did not want the trouble that Harry would surely draw to their study group because _other_ people believed it. He knew the girl was shy and hated confrontation just as much if not more so than Harry did. But it still hurt that she’d completely cut him off.

Maybe he should send the book to her anyway. As a Christmas olive branch of sorts. He wasn’t mad at the girl, he could understand the need to avoid unnecessary hardships. But perhaps if he extended a hand first, she might reconsider her decision. Ravenclaws, he’d noticed, tended to think logically first before emotionally. And Sue Li had most likely had not considered the full impact her leaving would have. So Harry would push down all the hurt, wrap up this book in a pretty paper, and send it off that afternoon. If she still did not want to study after the holidays, well, Harry would deal with that like he had when Dudley scared away all the kids in primary school. He’d grit his teeth and bear it.

Harry only hesitated a moment before pinching the rest of the books. Stacking them all as neatly as he could into his satchel, on the side not containing the food. The bag’s expansion charm was pushed to its limit, the corners of a few volumes even sticking out of the top. Harry was glad for the featherlight charm as well, doubting he’d be able to haul the stash of books very far without it. He closed up the pillar once more and watched the ouroboros melt back into the stone. He wondered if it had been a teacher that had made the hidden space. Or if anyone could manipulate the castle if they were powerful enough. It seemed odd that just anyone could affect so old a building with impunity. Surely there were steps one had to go through to gain any sort of authority to change the school. Even in so small a manner.

Hmm, a question for another day.

For now he had a bag full of books to sort through and one hopeful gift to send off.

The next day they’d start on the third floor. Although, as it was Christmas Eve tomorrow, Harry doubt he’d have much time to search.

~~~~~~~>

In fact, it turned out Harry had _no_ time to search. As Snape had cornered him after breakfast to inform Harry that he had the day free to work on developing more pictures, if Harry so desired.

“What about the Restorative Draught?” Harry had blurted out before he could stop himself, of course he wanted to work on his pictures, he ordered an album and everything. It was made of high quality dragonhide, dyed a deep purple with oxidized copper corners.

Snape just waved a dismissive hand, “Fear not, it is at a resting point. Two full days before the powdered billywigs need adding.”

“Oh, good. How long after that until it’s finished?”

“Three more days. Unfortunately, Mr. Weasley will have missed Christmas, but I suspect he will be grateful nonetheless to have not fallen behind on many classes.”

That was good. It had been a rather duller Christmas than last year, with the twins more occupied with worrying about their brother than enchanting snowballs to follow people around. Oliver Wood would no doubt be ecstatic at the new. Harry had not even noticed the Gryffindor Keeper had stayed on as well, because he had been spending the majority of his time up in the hospital wing. Not coming down to meals unless the twins bodily dragged him, even then he only poked at his food and sighed. The stocky boy looked even worse for wear than Ginny Weasley, which was saying something.

“I’ll just go grab my things then, where are we going? Your lab?”

Snape predictably gave a sharp jerk of his head in the negative, “The classroom will suffice. I shall meet you there in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” That would give him enough time to let one of the multitude of Weasleys know that they’d have their brother back soon, and still have plenty of time to get his film from the dorms. He suspected that was Snape’s intention, but also realized the man would probably deny it to his last breath.

Harry shook his head fondly at the retreating professor and went to find the nearest redhead.

~~~~~~~>

The rest of the day was more enjoyable than the last two months combined. Snape helped him develop three full rolls of film, only pausing to take a meal brought by a house elf. Jax sat up on the worktable and watch in fascination as the picture slowly appeared and took on color and movement.

“ _Is that me? I look so tiny._ ” The snake hissed, bending down so close to the basin that Harry feared he might fall in.

“ _You’ve grown a lot since last year._ ” Harry confirmed, his snake preened.

The tiny Jax in the picture was just starting to uncoil and slither around on Harry’s bed, chasing after an Ice Mouse with glee. It was a bit of a bittersweet image now, as the serpent was still staunchly refusing to eat a single one of those until Malfoy got his head out of his ass (Jax’s words).

Snape also took the time to teach him the duplicating spell he’d used to give Harry copies of his mother’s photos. It took a few tries and a lot of concentration, but eventually Harry was confident enough in it to try it on a few of his own pictures. He snuck a copy of the candid from that summer, where Snape had had his hair up in a messy bun while working the garden. Ezra would no doubt appreciate the gift, as long as he promised Harry that he’d never reveal its existence.

Snape also answered all his questions about blending magics and what sorts of things meshed well while others were just a complete disaster to try. Harry learned one should never mix Transfiguration with Ancient Runes unless you were a master in both, otherwise you could end up turning an entire village into rabbits with no way to reverse it, as you’d be a rabbit yourself.

Harry was looking forward to the next year even more than he had been. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes sounded fascinating.

At dinner that night, the cluster of Gryffindors at the end of the table seemed in better spirits than they’d been that morning. The twins had mischievous grins as they passed their brother the plate of rolls, and even Ginny Weasley managed a smile when Ron’s face broke out in green and red spots.

“That’s the spirit, Ronikins, way to be festive.” One twin exclaimed, clapping his brother on the back heartily.

“Shut it, Fred.” Ron scowled, trying to wipe the spots away, but that only made them spread to his hands and arms.

“Aw, you look pretty as a present.” The other, George presumably, cooed.

Harry had to look away then, or else risk bursting into laughter. Mr. Jacobi, who had joined them that night, held no such qualms and snickered into his eggnog. Harry suspected the drink to be more whiskey than nog at that point, as Ezra’s cheeks were a bit flushed. He somewhat regretted sitting across from the man, as he kept nudging at Harry’s feet under the table. Harry suspected he was aiming for Snape next to him, and did not know whether he’d prefer to see the fall out of an attempt at playing footsie with the Potion Master, or to survive the meal with the table intact. Thankfully, dessert was served well before any disasters could happen and everyone was soon off to bed, to dream of dancing sugar plums. Or in the likely case of a Gryffindor Tower occupied by the twins, to avoid actual dive bombing candied fruits with varying degrees of success.

Harry awoke early on Christmas morning. Enough so that there wasn’t even any dawnlight shining down through the lake yet. The other boys in the dorm were still sleeping, so Harry was quiet about gathering up his modest pile of gifts and creeping from the room. He sat with Jax in front of the roaring fireplace, still wearing his sleep pants and one of the shirts he’d liberated from Snape’s old room. This one was black (of course) with a stylized DK in white and black over a large red circle across the chest. The logo was faded a bit, but Harry didn’t mind, it was soft and comforting.

Jax wasted no time in poking at the corner of a box wrapped in such a precise manner that it had to have been done by magic. The paper was a shimmering burnt umber that reminded Harry of sand dunes and warm sunshine. The tag read in an elegant Italian script that it was from Blaise and Signora Zabini both.

Harry carefully peeled away the wrapping to find the promised pastries, along with a masterfully crafted pair of dragonhide gloves, so supple it nearly felt like he wasn’t wearing them at all. If it weren’t for the warming charm laid over them that left his hands nice and toasty. The cuffs were tooled in an elaborate twisting pattern, with what looked to be bits of silver embedded in the dark leather. They must have cost quite a few galleons and Harry felt almost guilty accepting such an extravagant gift. There was a note along with the gloves, written in a looping, feminine script that must be Blaise’s mother’s handwriting. It was in English, which surprised him, as he’d expected she knew her son had taught him Italian. Although maybe Blaise was keeping that close to his vest, for whatever reason.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It warms my heart that you have become such close friends with my sweet Blaise. I wished to convey my regrets that we could not meet over the summer when he went down to visit you. Some unavoidable business, I am afraid. I do hope you enjoy the gift I’ve enclosed. I had them commissioned from the best magical leatherworker in Rome, Blaise helped pick out the design. The boy does have an eye for it, I must say._

_I am also writing to invite you out to the Villa, in the coming summer, if you are amicable. I am sure Blaise would quite enjoy the company of someone his own age. There are so few other suitable children for him to socialize with._

_Warmest Holiday wishes,_  
Signora Zosima Zabini  


Harry carefully set the note aside, he’d need to write a reply soon. It would be nice to visit Blaise’s home over the summer, but he would be lying if he said the thought of meeting his mother was anything less than intimidating.

Along with the pastries, Blaise had also sent along a nice journal with a smoking cauldron emblazoned on the cover. Inside was looked to be a few thousand blank pages at least, with dividers and both lined and clean spaces for notes and drawings. When he closed the journal, it was still the slim book it appeared at first glance. Magic was brilliant.

The next present was from Millicent and contained what looked like a long woolen tube. It was a bit fuzzy and bright green. Harry was confused for a moment before an amusing thought stuck him and he laid out the thing next to Jax.

“ _Here, I think this is for you._ ” the snake eyed him skeptically before nosing at the tube. “ _It’s from Millicent._ ”

That seemed to do the trick and Jax wriggled his way inside, with a bit of help from Harry holding down one end, eventually the snake poked his head out of the other. Jax moved about on the hearthstones, giving the impression of an exceedingly over-large caterpillar, Harry held in his snickering with a great effort of will.

“ _Ooh, this is warm!_ ” The snake hissed happily, wriggling some more, “ _It’s a little slippery though._ ”

“ _It looks great._ ” Harry managed, making a mental note to thank Millicent profusely, hopefully she’d send more.

Taking another look in the box revealed a matching green jumper for Harry, and in a show of solidarity, he slipped it on right away. Jax hissed excitedly, rolling around on the hearth.

“ _Samesies!_ ” Harry could not hold back a laugh at that and reached over to tickle under his friend’s chin.

Neville had sent him a book on Chinese potion making and how it varied from British. It was a fascinating subject and Harry had to force himself to put the book down, lest he waste the entire morning with his head buried in it. Miss Reid had sent along a box of fancy chocolates, which was a relief as he’d felt kind of silly sending her a gift, not knowing if he should or not. He was glad he had, even if it was a bit funny that it had also been chocolates.

There was the usual little gifts of sweets from his yearmates, although with a marked few missing. Harry did not mind so much, as he’d not sent out anything to them either.

He had just finished clearing away all the trash and packing up his new things when there was the sound of a clearing throat behind him. Holding back a sigh, Harry carefully set his things back down and looked up to see Malfoy. The blonde was still in his silk pajamas, his hair more messy than Harry would have expected to ever see it when not in proximity to a racing broom. And he was clutching a neatly wrapped box in his hands.

Fine. It was Christmas. Harry could give the boy a chance.

He stood up and resisted the urge to cross his arms, in spite of how much he wanted to.

“Harry,” Malfoy started, backtracking at the look that was shot his way immediately. “Potter, then. I--I wish to apologize.”

He thrust the little box out like a shield, gray eyes nervous, but his shoulders stiff and chin up. Harry didn’t take the box.

“What are you apologizing for?”

Malfoy looked confused, still holding out the gift for a few moments before letting his arms drop.

“I did not mean to upset you.” He tried, obviously picking his words carefully. “I wish to convey my sincerest regrets that I caused such a rift between us.”

Harry sighed, “Do you even understand why I got so upset?”

“You thought I was insulting you.” Malfoy answered hesitantly, “I want to assure you that I wasn't. I hold you in the highest esteem and wish nothing more than to be friends again.”

Malfoy looked a little desperate, fingers pale where they clutched at the little box with its fancy ribbon. Harry decided to throw him a bone, as the boy seemed genuinely sorry this time, if for the wrong reasons.

“Malfoy. I am not upset that you inadvertently insulted me and my mother. I am upset that you seem to believe that the circumstances of one's birth should dictate their placement in our society. That you feel as if a person like Granger, who is top of nearly every class, or my mother, who died fighting a war, is somehow inherently inferior. Just because they do not share as _pure_ a bloodline as you.”

Malfoy looked stunned, as if he had never before questioned the things he'd been taught as a child.

“I-- that's not-- it's not like that. You're making it out worse than it is.”

“What do you think mudblood _means_ then? You said it, knowing that it would cause a scene and hurt someone. Why do you think it's so bad to have _dirty_ blood. That it somehow makes someone deserving of hate and ridicule.”

“I--” Malfoy’s eye were wide, his hands shaking now, so Harry pushed ahead.

“I want you to tell me something, Malfoy. Don't mindlessly repeat what your father has told you, or what you think I want to hear. Just tell me what _you_ , Draco Malfoy, truly think is so wrong about people coming from non-magical heritage.”

The blonde was quiet for a moment, “Are you just going to get angry again? If you don't like what I say?” He asked quietly.

Harry shook his head, “I can't promise I'll agree, but I want to hear your honest opinion. And we can move forward from there. You just need to tell me the truth, whether you think I'll get mad or not. It does neither of us any good to keep lying. Not about this.”

“Alright.” Malfoy conceded, “Can we sit down? I need to think.”

Harry gestured at the sofa, more than willing to give the blonde some time if it meant getting him to actually consider things for once. Malfoy sat gingerly on the edge of a cushion, box in his lap and Harry took the other end of the sofa. Jax did his best to slither over, the effort less than elegant but appreciated nonetheless when Harry could scoop the fuzzy snake up into his lap.

Malfoy stared, “Is he wearing a _jumper_? Are you wearing _matching_ jumpers?”

Harry tried his hand at one of Snape's unimpressed eyebrow raises, stroking over Jax’s covered neck as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Right, not important.” Malfoy’s eyes darted away, and he spent the next few minutes staring into the crackling fire and frowning.

When he did finally speak again, it was with a halting voice, as of he were unsure of exactly how to convey his thoughts, but determined to see them through in any case.

“It's not that I think anyone is really _inferior_... so much as it not being right that they get to come into our world and walk all over our traditions and culture. And we're supposed to just sit back and _let_ them? It's not fair to my family, who have been around since before the founding of this school. That we have to welcome all these new families that have no sense of the world they are intruding into and just stand by while they erase everything that makes it _special_.”

Malfoy was flushed by the end of his speech, breathing heavily as if he'd just run a mile up and down the stairs. Harry let him settle down a little before saying anything. He could see the point that the boy was trying to make, could even sympathize a little. He remembered paging through illicit wizarding books, in the darkness of his cupboard, fearing what might happen should his relatives realize that he _knew_. That he had sought out and brought into their house his filthy nonsense, contaminating their perfect little world. How he’d reached for and cherished every speck of the upbringing and world that was denied him.

Yes, Harry could understand Malfoy’s fears. But he also knew there were far better ways to assuage them than bullying and hate.

“Did it ever occur to you that the muggleborns trample so thoroughly over wizarding culture because they don't know they are doing so? That an entire hidden world was just opened up to them and they have no way of knowing that they could be offending anyone?”

“They should have done some research, then.” Malfoy argued, finally turning to look at Harry. “That should have been the _first_ thing they did.”

“And it probably was, but who was around to point them in the right direction? Who was there to show them the correct sources or keep them from being distracted by a million other new things suddenly opened up to them. You need to realize that for most of these children, magic was just a fairytale, a bedtime story told to them by their parents. Not something they'd grown up around. So of course they'd be overwhelmed and liable to step on a few toes.”

“Then why do they never bother to learn? Why do they insist on changing everything?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself. “ _I_ learned.”

“You don't count, your father was a pureblood.”

“Malfoy,” Harry sighed, exasperated, “I never _knew_ my father. Or my mother. Or my godfather. Or anything about magic at all until I was _eight_ and a pregnant snake told me I was a wizard.”

The other boy gaped at him, mouth hanging open in what had to be the most uncouth manner Malfoy had ever been in his life.

“I lived with my muggle aunt and uncle, who _hated_ magic,” and him, but he wasn't going to go into that right then, “and had to sneak around to learn anything about this world. I didn't even know about the Dark Lord until I'd read about him in some book, I'd been told my parents died in a car crash.”

“That's-- that can't be right, you’re _Harry Potter_ , how could you not know?” Malfoy looked flabbergasted again, “What's a car?”

Harry snorted.

“It a bit like a horseless carriage that muggles use to get around in, if you'd ever step foot out the other side of The Leaky Cauldron you’d find plenty.”

“Like the ones that pull the school carriages?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, “Those are pulled by thestrals.”

“Oh.” Malfoy said, then more solemn as he looked at Harry with understanding. “ _Oh._ ”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, Malfoy staring at the fire and Harry petting Jax, who was doing his best to keep up a glare at the other boy but was losing the battle against napping.

“Malfoy.” Harry broke the silence, speaking in a low, serious tone. “I know you're not a bad person, I realize it might be hard for you to go against your father's wishes. But can you just try and think about the reasoning behind the things he tells you. I'm not saying to openly defy him, just to not take everything he says at face value.”

The blonde gave a reluctant sort of nod, “He's a good father. He loves mother and me very much.”

“I'm not saying he doesn't.” Harry reassured him, he'd seen as much himself last summer. “I'm just saying that maybe everything he tells you is not going to be one hundred percent correct.”

It looked like the concept was going to be a difficult one for the boy to parse, so Harry continued.

“You obviously thought I'd been raised in the wizarding world, yes?”

A nod.

“And he was the one to tell you that?”

A slightly more hesitant nod.

“Then see, it's easy for misinformation to get out of hand. There is nothing wrong with questioning what someone tells you, but a lot of strife can be avoided if you do.”

“Alright, I'll try.”

Well, that was better than nothing.

“And the next time you see a muggleborn seeming to trample all over our culture, try informing them on what they're doing instead of crucifying them for an honest mistake.”

“Why do they insist on trying to change things, though?”

“Malfoy, the world cannot remain stagnant, no matter how much you might wish it. Change happens whether we want it to or not. Think of the world a few hundred years ago, where they still burned witches at the stake. Things changed then, for the better even, and they'll keep on changing long after we're dead and gone. You can not expect the same small pool of families to keep interbreeding forever, the trees are tangled enough as it is, fresh blood is needed to keep the magic alive and strong. Trust me, I've read more genealogy books in the last few months than I care to count.”

That got a weak grin at least.

“And there is no _us_ and _them_ , Draco, we're all here to learn. Which means we all have magic and the capacity to use it. As soon as you realize that, you'll see why I was so upset about what you did.”

Malfoy’s smile grew a bit steadier. “You called me Draco, does that mean you forgive me?”

Harry huffed, and managed a smirk, “I'm still royally pissed at what you pulled at the dueling club.”

The blonde’s face fell and he looked stricken, “I'm so sorry about that! I regretted it the moment I did it. I should never have put you in that position, or endangered Jax like that. Snape was right to yell at me and I deserved much worse than the two weeks scrubbing first year cauldrons.”

“Draco,” Harry put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Draco, it's okay. It was a monumentally selfish thing for you to do, I'm not going to lie about that. But the secret would have got out eventually, even if I would have preferred a less public setting.” 

Malfoy nodded, settling down from his tensed position. He held up the slightly battered box and offered it again with a pleading sort of look. Harry took it this time, carefully undoing the elaborate black bow and unfolding the crinkled silver paper.

Inside, under a mesh of crumbled black crepe paper was a silver knife with a beautifully carved bone handle. The blade was wide and flat with a wickedly sharp point, perfect for chopping and crushing ingredients.

“It's goblin wrought silver, the purest there is, and the bone is dragon. From a Norwegian Ridgeback. Uncle Severus always says dragon bone is the best thing to pair with a silver knife. I-- I know how much you love potions. I thought-- do you like it?”

Harry carefully took out the knife, it fit comfortably in his palm, but with room to grow; when he ever got around to doing that in earnest. It reflected the flicking light of the fire like a mirror, it's surface flawless.

“It’s beautiful.” He said honestly, “Thank you, Draco.”

“So, can I call you Harry again?”

“I suppose.” He conceded, after letting the boy squirm for a few moments. “But only as long as you keep your promise to _think_ before you speak, from now on.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you.” The blonde flushed, presumably at his own babbling. “Can you speak to Jax, on my behalf? Convey my sincere apologies?”

Harry snorted softly, stowing the knife carefully back in the box, he’d stick it in with his kit later.

“I’ll do my best when he wakes up.” He rubbed at Jax’s head where it poked out of the fuzzy green material. The snake had been snoozing for the past ten minutes at least. “Although a couple offerings of Ice Mice couldn’t hurt.”

Draco grinned.


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of Christmas was much less headache inducing than the morning had been. He played a game of chess with Malfoy, and the other boy did not even gloat too hard when he won. Harry really was pants at chess, it did not help that the pieces seemed to like Malfoy better than him. When it was _Harry's_ bloody set. They must sense the innate understanding the blonde had for strategy and the dynamic of the game. It also did not help that Jax kept hissing suggestions that usually ended in more destruction to Harry’s men than anything.

“ _Ooh look at his little hat go flying! Does that get you extra points?”_ the snake followed the trajectory of a bishop's hat (head still attached) as it fell somewhere near the fireplace.

Harry buried his own head in his hands. A peek at Malfoy showed him trying (and failing) not to look amused.

Breakfast was less awkward than it had been the last few days, with Harry no longer feeling the urge to ignore a quarter of the table and the Weasleys in better spirits than they had been for most of the break so far. Although Wood was noticeably absent again and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the Gryffindor Keeper, it must be hard to feel good about anything when you were so worried about a person you cared so deeply for. Harry knew he’d be _devastated_ if something were to happen to Jax, or Blaise, or Millicent, or Neville, even Mr. Jacobi and Snape Devastated and _angry_. Vengeful. The pool of beings that Harry really and truly cared for had steadily grown without his knowledge. And Harry knew there was a dark, selfish part of him that wanted to protect and keep them close at all costs.

Hadn't he already demonstrated as much with Quirrell?

Pushing the maudlin thoughts aside, he snuck an egg to Jax in his satchel under tell table. As warm as the green jumper was, it lacked a large front pocket like his purple muggle hoodie sported. Harry wished the Headmaster had not insisted on the singular table for the entirety of the break, at least then Jax could have sat in his lap. But he supposed it was easier on the house elves, so Harry couldn't mind too much.

After the meal Harry had intended to start up his search again, but Snape waylaid him on the way to the Grand Stairs.

“A moment, Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked up at the man curiously, the corridors were empty what with most of the students having been shanghaied into a pickup game of Quidditch. Harry had begged off, citing a need to finish some holiday coursework, despite the somewhat pleading look Malfoy was shooting him.

“Wow, Potter, you sound like Hermione.” Ron Weasley laughed, although it did not sound anything like the vicious mocking Harry would have expected from the boy. Perhaps it was a day for truces.

“I don’t like to leave things for the very last minute.” Harry shrugged, “Besides, if I joined the teams would be uneven and that’s no fun.”

That seemed to be enough for the group, even if the singular Ravenclaw among them looked as if he’d much rather switch places with Harry, and they’d all left for the pitch.

Snape looked a bit awkward, standing there with his hands folded behind his back, an expression that mostly manifested in a bit of a scowl and eyebrows that were drawn close together.

“Yes, sir?” Harry finally asked, when the Potion Master had said nothing for a solid thirty seconds.

The man huffed, looking annoyed before bringing an arm forward and thrusting a neatly wrapped package at him. Harry grabbed it more out of surprise than anything.

“Sir--?”

Snape rolled his eyes, a gesture Harry was becoming more and more familiar with.

“I am sure you are intelligent enough to recognize a Christmas gift when presented one, Mr. Potter.” His black eyes glinted with a wry amusement, “Although I suspect I can forgive the lapse, as it is well known that I do not indulge in such frivolousness often.”

Translation: Do go around telling people about it.

“Of course, sir. I wouldn’t want anyone to find out how generous and giving a spirit you are.” Harry deadpanned, only half-joking, but Snape didn’t need to know that.

The man smirked in any case, so it must have been the correct response.

“Just so.”

They stood, slightly less awkwardly, for a few moments before Harry realized he should probably _open_ the gift.

He carefully peeled up the corner of the plain wrapping paper, a purple so dark as to almost be black (there was no bow), and opened the box underneath. It held a new pair of headphones with a splitter on the end so that another pair could be plugged in and two people could listen to music at the same time. It also contained a few more tapes, albums in Snape’s collection that he hadn’t gotten around to buying yet, and a couple that looked to be newer releases. There was even a Social Distortion one, as if Snape had actually been paying attention to the things he liked and made a purchase accordingly.

Harry sniffed, holding the box close and not looking up in fear he might do something rash, like _hug_ the man.

“Thank you, sir. This is... this is brilliant.”

“Yes, well.” The Potion Master sounded as off put as Harry felt, which oddly made things better and he was able to look up without fear of a rogue emotional outburst. “I’ll leave you to the rest of your day, I’ve papers to mark and a draught to look over.” He eyed Harry sternly down his hooked nose, “I trust you can stay out of trouble?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry managed a smirk that had Snape huffing again.

The man turned to sweep away when Harry suddenly remembered something, “Oh, wait. I have a gift for you too.”

Harry opened his satchel and dug around a bit before finally pulling the wrapped book out from under a disgruntled Jax, who had been napping on top of it (still in his new jumper).

Snape took the proffered gift hesitantly, as if the idea of reciprocated presents were as foreign a concept to him as getting them in the first place had been to Harry.

It was one of the old journals Harry had found in the little hidden cubby-hole. It was filled to the brim with complex formulas and theories so far above Harry’s understanding that he could barely make head or tails of it, as fascinating as the work was. So he’d practiced the duplication spell until he was able to reliably copy an entire book without it bursting into flames (an abandoned copy of _Travels With Trolls_ ) crumpling into an odd orange dust ( _Year With a Yeti_ ) or gaining the ability to flap around the ceiling for hours before falling on some hapless student’s head ( _Break With a Banshee_ ). Then he’d wrapped up the original for Snape (just in case something was still off with his technique) and put the copy back into his trunk. He hadn’t been sure when he should give it to the man, or if it was even an appropriate thing to do. But thankfully, the situation had presented itself for him and Harry gladly handed it over.

Snape flipped through the book, his eyebrows rising steadily with every page turn until Harry feared they might disappear completely.

“Wherever did you get this?” The man murdered, tracing a line across one page with a long finger, his black eyes darting all over the page as if trying to assimilate as much knowledge as quickly as possible.

Harry shrugged, “Do you like it?”

“It is... fascinating.” Snape turned another page, eyes narrowing, “Hydra scales with opal? That can’t be right... ah the star anise, that would, of _course_...” Snape wandered off, muttering about the waning moon and jade stirring rods, so Harry figured the gift had been a success.

He happily continued up the stairs, glad that he’d been able to repay even a fraction of the kindness the Potion Master had shown him over the last year.

The third floor was not looking very promising so far. Harry hadn't found much in the way of snake carvings, or even paintings that included serpents. There was a picture of a dragon curled around a clutch of eggs, but she didn't respond to Harry’s questions. He didn't know if it was because dragons were too far removed for Parseltongue to be effective, or if she was genuinely asleep.

Mr. Jacobi had found him digging about in a sideroom around lunch time and thankfully not questioned what he was doing. 

“Hey there, little snake.” He grinned, sitting down on an abandoned teacher’s desk pockmarked with what looked suspiciously like acid splashes. “And littler snake, nice jumpers.” he nodded at Jax, who was getting better at moving around and was investigating underneath a stack of boxes (although Harry suspected the serpent to be looking for stray mice more than anything).

Ezra seemed to genuinely mean the compliment, which showed either terrible or amazing taste on his part, Harry was not quite sure which.

“Brought you something.” He said next, putting a familiar looking bag onto the desk with another grin, “Bit of a Christmas treat.”

Harry dropped the box he’d been moving and rushed forward, stomach already growling, “Is that?”

Ezra chuckled, “Puri’s finest!”

He started pulling out little tubs of fragrant curry and rice and steaming naan. Harry felt his mouth watering, barely resisted falling upon the unexpected feast like Crabbe and Goyle went after cake.

“Thank you!” Harry managed, not even able to muster up any indignation at the amused look on Mr. Jacobi’s face.

It didn't even matter since the man wasted no further time in conjuring up some plates and utensils and waving Harry to take his fill. It was _delicious._

No offense to the house elves, but it just wasn't the same. Harry piled some rice and spicy vindaloo onto a bit of naan with abandon. Relishing the burn it left on his tongue, not caring one wit for the way his eyes watered.

“I think they sneaked a little something extra in here for you.” Erza said with a wink, pushing forward a carton of sweet almond balls. There was a little note scrawled across the top _for Evan, Merry Christmas_. Harry felt warm for a reason that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the food. He made a mental note to write them a thank you.

After Harry couldn’t force a single bite further, Mr. Jacobi also surprised him with a gift. It was a bit overwhelming, as he’d already assumed the food was his present. So the little expandable potion box was a complete surprise. It was made of a dark, warm wood, and the inside was honeycombed with cushioned slots like his trunk, so that bottle and vials wouldn’t knock into each other or break.

“It has a passworded lock, too, so that no one can go pilfering through your things if you leave it out. And a cushioning charm, in case it gets dropped. Each slot will grow or shrink to the size of container you put in it, and I think it should hold about thirty potions. No preservation charms though, as they tend to mess with finished products, which can have unforeseen side effects if you’re not careful.”

The little chest was about two feet by one but had been made magically enlarged on the inside. There were two brass handles hanging on either end for carrying and the aforementioned lock on the front. Harry thanked Erza profusely for the gift, eager to start using it. He’d ruffled Harry’s hair with a grin.

When Harry gave him the photo he’d copied, that grin had turned positively _joyful_.

“Oh Harry, this is marvelous. Look at his cute little scowl, and that _bun_.” Ezra sighed and Harry shook his head in bemusement.

“You know it’s probably hopeless to keep flirting with him right?” He said tentatively, equal parts out of concern for the man’s feelings and an attempt to get him to stop acting like a little girl with a crush. Which made Harry think of Ginny Weasley, as she was really the only other younger girl he knew, which in turn had him flushing with the realization that the Gryffindor likely had a crush on _him_ and that was what Blaise and the others had been snickering about the other day. 

“Oh I know,” Ezra sighed again, tucking the photo safely away, “I fear I’m too boisterous for serious, stern, solemn Severus Snape.” He winked, “It is fun though.”

Harry was still too caught up in worrying about how to avoid Ginny Weasley, or if he should confront her and say he wasn’t interested. But that would be a terrible thing to do when she was already worried about her brother and looked as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. And Christmas too. No, he should probably just wait and see if she’d get over it on her own. He’d just have to make sure not to seem too encouraging, or...

“Harry? Harry, are you okay?”

There was a hand waving in front of his face and Harry jumped, startled.

“There you are. Thought I lost you for a moment.”

He flushed, embarrassed.

“Sorry, must be all the food, I think I need a nap now.”

Ezra laughed, “That sounds like a good idea to me, I think I might indulge in one also.”

“Are you going to be at dinner?” Harry asked as the man started packing away the scant leftovers, handing the lot to Harry with a wink.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity for a Hogwarts feast. That’s when the elves cart out all the good stuff.”

“And it will give you another chance to play footsie with Snape?” Harry smirked.

“That too.” Ezra grinned, unrepentant. 

After the man left, Harry and Jax spent a few more minutes in the room before calling it a wash and heading back to the common room to put away his new things.

He actually did start on some work then, figuring he might as well. He was just putting the finishing touches on his History essay covering the appointment and subsequent overthrowing of Bladeripper the Unwise. An event that eventually led to a joining of three major goblin clans and the beginnings of a tangible threat towards wizardkind’s hold over the race, (it was honestly a fascinating subject, if only they had a teacher that wouldn't drone through the entire thing as if discussing annual rainfall over the Rhine) when Malfoy walked in looking windswept, cold and slightly drippy. He was still wearing his flying robes, with Crabbe and Goyle at his shoulders looking equally cold and red-faced.

“Have fun?” Harry asked, eyeing the bruise that was forming on the side of Goyle’s head.

Draco waved away the two hulking boys and plopped down on an armchair close on the fire.

“We won, barely. The Weasley girl is actually pretty quick on a broom, Gryffindor might not come in dead last next year if she joins.”

“That sounded suspiciously like a compliment.” Harry teased, aiming a drying charm carefully at his essay, he did not need any more fires.

Malfoy snorted, his nose pointing towards the ceiling as he unbuckled his boots and set them next to the fire.

“It was nothing of the sort, I was simply making an observation.”

“My mistake, then.” Harry smirked, rolling up the parchment. “How was the rest of the match?”

“Those Hufflepuffs were a decent enough pair of Chasers, better than the Ravenclaw the other team was stuck with.”

Draco chattered on for a while, making himself a cup of tea at the service tucked in the corner before settling back in his chair. Apparently they'd had to play with just one Beater each, which made things a bit more even, as George Weasley was not so skilled a Chaser as he was with a bat. Goyle had gotten that knock by stopping the Quaffle with his face rather than any other, more practical approach. Draco was unsure whether it had been an intentional choice or not, but he couldn't really argue with the results.

“He let in fewer goals than that Ron Weasley at least, it was fortunate that Wood didn't want to play.” Malfoy got an odd, scrunched up, look on his face. “Though I can't imagine _why_. That boy is madder about the game than _Flint_ , and that's saying something.”

Harry knew, Millicent had been grumbling about the frequency of all the early morning practices for weeks.

“Well, I suppose he's too busy worrying about his boyfriend.” Harry reasoned, flipping through one of the journals he'd found, it was filled with short stories, a few of them quite good once you got the hang of the older prose.

“Wait, what?” Draco choked on his tea, tan drops dripping down his chin in a most unbecoming manner.

Harry gave him a look over the top his book and Draco’s eyes widened with the realization.

“That pompous prefect up in the hospital wing?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “I don't think you have much of a leg stand on, calling anyone pompous.”

The blonde flushed, backtracking hurriedly as if he feared another bout of shunning.

“I only meant that Wood didn't seem the type to think about anything except Quidditch, let alone such an uptight swot like Weasley.”

Harry shrugged, turning back to his book. As fun as it was to rile Draco up, he knew the boy was actually trying, in his own way; so he'd let him off.

“People like who they like, I guess.” He said, thinking of Mr. Jacobi’s fruitless pursuit of Snape and Ginny Weasley’s baffling behavior towards himself. “I don't think it's really something you can help.”

“I suppose.” Malfoy said dubiously. Then, “What is that you're reading?”

“A book of stories.”

That seemed to be too dull to hold the blonde’s interest much, and he excused himself to go change not long after. Leaving Harry and Jax to enjoy the quiet of the empty common room again.

~~~~~~~>

Dinner that night was indeed a festive and indulgent affair. With their one table laden down with far more food and drink than even twice their number could have made through. There were bowls of Christmas crackers placed along the length of the table, nestled between basins of roasted vegetables and various meats, with several more drink options than regularly offered at meals.

Harry, having learned his lesson from the night before, had seated himself beside Mr. Jacobi. He poured a mug of warm cider, fragrant with spices, and piled his plate with slices of ham and steaming roast squash.

Everyone seemed to be in all around good spirits, with happy chatter filling the room along with the occasional bang and poof of white smoke from the crackers. The Weasley twins had even managed to drag Wood down from his vigil and looked to be smothering the stocky boy in Christmas cheer, whether he liked it or not. Harry supposed it was as much for the brothers as it was their Captain, distractions were good when there was nothing one could do but wait.

Harry ate too much food and managed not to laugh when he caught Snape flicking a finger towards Ezra’s goblet of wine, the burgundy liquid inside vanishing right as the man was about to take a drink. It had been a subtle movement, made while Snape was scowling down the table at the group of rowdy Gryffindors. Harry had caught the Potion Master’s eye when get turned back, as Ezra held his empty goblet upside-down in tipsy bemusement. Snape gave a minuscule hitch of an eyebrow and Harry barely hid his smirk behind a large bite of treacle tart.

He wondered if he'd ever have such fine tuned control over his magic. If it was something Snape might be willing to teach him. He still practiced moving things about without his wand, not willing to be caught helpless again. But it was not nearly as smooth or discreet as the Potion Master made it look. Harry’s movements obvious and requiring him to be looking and concentrating fully on the thing he wanted moved. Maybe he could ask about it over the summer.

Erza interrupted his thoughts by holding out the end of a cracker with a grin, apparently over the mystery of his vanishing drink.

“Cheers, Harry.” He said before there was a loud bang and they were surrounded in a thick cloud of smoke that thankfully blew away quickly.

Inside had been a sparkling silver painted tiara that Mr. Jacobi happily set on his shaved head and a little wooden ship that was meticulously detailed down to the tiny little rivets on the helm and three full masts worth of sail and rigging. It floated about half a foot off the table, slowly circling a punch bowl and reminded Harry of a muggle cartoon he'd seen snippets of before his Aunt had hastily changed the channel. Although that ship had been trailing a river of glittery dust if he recalled correctly.

Harry turned to Ezra, unable to hold back a little smile at the ridiculousness of the man’s headgear in comparison to his blunt features.

“Don’t mock now,” Ezra chided, his cheeks reddened a bit from earlier non-vanished wine, “diadems are a great tradition in my House. Rowena herself was always said to have one that was charmed for clear thought and wisdom. It was lost though, ages ago.”

He then rambled a bit about the history of Ravenclaw House, the information fascinating if a little disjointed as the man kept getting distracted by his continued disappearing drinks and the arrival of even more little cakes on the platter in front of him.

The meal ended soon after, everyone full and at least content if not happy.

~~~~~~~>

The next couple of days were an exercise in balancing not-avoiding Malfoy and getting time to himself to continue his search for the Chamber. It was a bit of a juggle, as Draco seemed to want to hang around him and Harry did not really have much of an excuse to not let him. The second day Jax decided it was finally time to shed again, so Harry had let Malfoy tag along while he went to one of the numerous empty classrooms. It took a couple tries before he found on that was mostly abandoned cauldrons and therefore not very flammable.

“Why couldn't he do it in the dorm like last time?” Malfoy asked, eyeing the pile of rusty and dinged up cauldrons with distaste.

“You'll see.”

“ _It's so itchy._ ” Jax hissed miserably and proceeded to curse a blue streak colorful enough that Harry thought maybe he was picking English up just fine, if only the less appropriate aspects of it.

When the sparks started flying, it was Malfoy who let a surprised swear.

Harry cocked not eyebrow and the other boy scowled at him.

“So when did this start?”

“Over the summer.” Harry answered, taking a step further back to avoid a shower of colorful sparks, it seemed to be more violent this time around. “He set a bit of Snape's sitting room on fire, so I figured an empty classroom would be a better place for it.”

Malfoy boggled at him, “He set Uncle Severus' house on fire, and you're still alive?”

Harry smirked, amused.

Jax finished up after a last string of filthy words that seemed both morally dubious and anatomically improbable. The skin he left behind was a little crispy but otherwise undamaged and Harry carefully tucked it away in a cloth for safekeeping until he could put it with the rest of his potion things.

“ _Feel better?_ ” He asked Jax, crouching down to tickle the new scales under his friend’s chin.

“ _Much. I've been so scrunchy all week, it's been awful._ ”

“ _I know, buddy._ he gave the snake a conspiratorially smile, “ _I bet Malfoy has some Ice Mice in his pocket._ ”

Jax gave a gleeful hiss and shot off towards the blonde with lightning quick speed, coiling around his leg and climbing it in an almost frighteningly short amount of time.

“Hey-- what-- um, _Harry_?” Draco had stiffened, his grey eyes wide but not quite frightened, like he wasn't scared so much as _uncertain_ where he still stood with Jax.

“He wants a sweet.” Harry smiled a little at the other boy’s slightly stunned look, a humble Draco Malfoy was not a sight one saw too often.

Jax had climbed high enough to start sticking his head in various pockets, trying to ferret out the candy. Malfoy pulled one from his other side, and Harry found the idea of the blonde just carrying around a constant supply of treats amusing. Jax snapped the wiggling thing with a lunging snap that had Harry mildly worried for Malfoy’s fingers.

Draco ran a tentative hand down the back of the snake’s neck, his normally cool aristocratic features softened to a warmer level. Harry hoped the other boy could eventually see past all the unwarranted bigotry he had been raised with, and allow more of this compassionate and caring side through. He had the feeling that Malfoy could do great things with his name and influence, Harry just needed to try and nudge the direction of that focus to something more worthwhile than the perpetuation of hate and fear.

~~~~~~~>

On the day Percy Weasley was to be revived, Harry was finally able to continue his search of the third floor. Or he would have, if he hadn’t come across another growing puddle of water in the same place as that first one on Halloween. Taking a few steps back around a corner, Harry dug his Cloak out of his bag and donned it. Jax gave out a single sneeze before relocating himself from Harry’s shoulders to the front pocket of his hoodie, so as to put at least a bit of a barrier between the strong magic and his sensitive nose.

Harry then creep back across the corridor in search of the source of the water. It seemed to be flowing from a girl’s loo, and as Harry approached he could hear the sound of loud sobbing from inside. Feeling dread start to creep up his spine, he carefully pushed the door open and took a cautious look around; being mindful to keep his eyes low in case the basilisk was actually in there.

A few steps into the bathroom soon revealed that it was completely empty of fifty foot snakes, but did contain a hysterically crying ghost and a lot more water. Well, that had not been what he’d been expecting, but things so very rarely went that way for him that Harry was getting used to just rolling with it.

He took off his Cloak and put it back in his bag before approaching the weeping ghost. She was just a girl, Harry realized, not much older than himself and wearing an old fashioned Ravenclaw uniform.

“Hello?” He asked quietly, then louder when the ghost didn’t seem to hear him, “Are you okay?”

She finally looked up, glaring at Harry through eyes filled with spectral tears. She had a bit of an unfortunate face, with hair done up in pigtails and large round glasses like the ones Harry used to wear.

“What are _you_ doing in here? This is the _girl’s_ bathroom. Boys aren’t allowed in here!” Her voice was the kind of high pitched that hurt your ears if you were forced to listen for too long, although Harry supposed that could have just been because she was so upset.

“I’m sorry.” He tried, “I heard crying, I wanted to see if I could help.”

The ghost sniffed loudly like she didn’t believe him.

“And why would you want to help me? I think you’ve come here to make fun of me! Stupid, moping, Moaning Myrtle! That’s what they call me, when they’re not just laughing and throwing books through my head!”

Harry winced as the ghost’s, Myrtle’s, voice got even shriller and more loud.

“I haven’t come to throw anything at you, honest. Is that what upset you? Who threw it? I could let a teacher know, and they’d make sure to do something.” Harry wasn’t completely sure that was true, but he just wanted the ghost to stop yelling for a minute before his ears started bleeding.

“Humph! As if anyone would care enough to punish the living over acts against the dead. _Myrtle_ can’t even feel it, let’s all just throw things at her! Ten points if you get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her _head_!”

Harry held up his hands in a placating manner, as much to stop her shouting as to try and calm her down. “Myrtle, I promise I haven’t come to throw things at you. Just tell me who did and I’ll go find them.” And then never come near this loo again.

She huffed, crossing her arms and bobbing in place like a weepy buoy.

“Well I didn’t see them, did I?” Her voice had thankfully lowered in register as she finally calmed down a little. “I was just sitting in the u-bend, thinking about death, when this book just falls right through my head!”

Harry very carefully did not say anything out how the perpetrator had obviously not known the ghost had been there, and looked over to where Myrtle had flung a dramatic arm. There was a plain looking journal sitting on the flooded floor. There was something odd about the sight and it took a second for Harry to realize the thing was still bone dry.

He went over to it and carefully nudged it with a toe, nothing happened. Hmm.

Myrtle had apparently grown tired of the conversation, and her histrionics, and decided to retreat back down one of the toilets with a last loud shriek and splash of water that thankfully missed hitting Harry. He thanked Merlin and crouched down to get a closer look at the book. Jax poked his head out of the pocket tasted the air with a flick of tongue, before giving a violent shake of his head and three sneezes in rapid succession.

“ _Oh, that smells dark._ ” He hissed, rearing up a little and give another tentative sniff. “ _Powerful and dark. I don’t think you should touch it._ ”

Harry stared at the journal, it looked innocent enough laying in a puddle of water. But he knew appearances were oftentimes deceiving. There was something else about the journal too, something that Harry could not place but that called to him deep inside. He took his scarf from his bag and carefully wrapped the book up before stowing it away. If it was a dark as Jax said, he didn’t want anyone to get hurt stumbling across it.

Then he went around turning off all the taps in the bathroom. Because as happy as the caretaker was to have his cat back, a flooded corridor was sure to cause no little amount of ire and Harry would rather avoid that if he could.

It was on the fourth sink that he saw the snake carving.

It was worn down, but not crude. And after a quick check of the others, turned out to be the only one. Harry leaned down and gave a hiss.

“ _Hello? Do you open?_ ”

There was silence for a second, then a grinding of stone on stone as the sink before him slowly started lowering into the floor to reveal a long slide into a dark tunnel. It gave off a scent of dampness and stale air and there was not enough light to see how far down the slide went.

“ _It smells of snake._ ” Jax hissed, eyeing the tunnel.

“ _Should we?_ ” Harry asked, his curiosity warring with his sense of self preservation.

What was the point of potentially finding the Chamber, if they did not then go down into it?

Jax stretched forward enough to get a good look down, forked tongue flicking.

“ _It smells of snake._ ” He said again, which was enough for Harry.

He set them carefully on the edge, putting his satchel in his lap and getting a good grip on Jax before pushing them down the long, dark slide.


	17. Chapter 17

“ _Weeeeeeee!_ ” Jax hissed excitedly as they rushed down into the darkness.

The stone slide was slick with something Harry did not care to contemplate at the moment, already mourning the assumed loss of his purple muggle hoodie; he doubted even magic would be enough to clean the muck from it.

The ride down _was_ a bit thrilling, with twists and turns and lasting long enough that he thought they must be far beneath the castle by the time they slid to a gradual halt onto a hard packed dirt floor. They might even be under the dungeons, or at least adjacent to them. Judging by the dampness in the air, it was obvious they were somewhere beneath the Black Lake.

“ _Again!_ ” Jax hissed, bobbing his head up and down from where it stuck out of the hoodie’s pocket. Harry rolled his eyes.

“ _Lumos._ ” The end of Harry’s wand lit the room they had landed in with a blue-white glow. Which was a relief, as there had been very little light beforehand.

Looking around, Harry saw it was less of a room and more a long cave. The floor and walls carved roughly from the earth. There were a few ancient torch brackets nailed into the rock face that gave off a scant bit of orange glow, the magic in them long faded.

“ _Forward, then?_ ” A rhetorical question, as that was the only possible way they could go.

Jax slithered down out of the pocket and onto the floor, his forked tongue flicking out as he scanned the way ahead. Harry glanced briefly behind them at the long slide, vaguely worried about how they were supposed to get back out, but that was a problem for later.

“ _The air down here is all stale._ ” His snake commented as they finally started forward, Harry’s wand illuminating their path.

“ _Well it probably doesn't get much of a breeze, being so far underground._ ” He reasoned as they turned a bend and came across a wider part of the tunnel, the ceiling too high for even his wand’s light to touch.

The floor was strewn in the tiny skeletons of rats and mice and whatever other small creatures had found their unfortunate way down here. Jax nudged at a little skull with his snout curiously before giving a dismissive hiss. Harry raised his wand higher to get a better view and nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise at the sight of a massive coiled shape.

He let out a sound that was more high-pitched and squeaky than he would ever admit, his heart racing a frantic pace. The shape didn't move, or react to the noise, and Harry flushed with embarrassment when he realized it was just a shedding, not the actual basilisk.

Jax gave him an unimpressed look and Harry scowled at the snake.

“ _Shut up._ ”

Jax just snickered a snakey laugh and slinked over to the massive thing. Harry joined him, carefully prodding at the skin with his free hand. It was dry and papery, but much thicker than Jax’s tended to be.

Harry dug his penknife out of his bag and sliced off a few good swaths of the material, mind whirling with the possibilities of its use. He remembered reading something about basilisk skin in one of the books Millicent had given him. Harry couldn't quite remember what that particular potion had been for, but it was sure to be interesting nonetheless.

If anything, he could sell the samples. As rare as the giant snakes were, even a small amount should fetch a hefty sum.

After he finished harvesting what he could, Harry led the way forward again. It was almost eerily quiet down here. The only sounds that of his own footsteps and the slight rasp of Jax’s scales against the ground. He tried to avoid stepping on any bones, the crunching seeming overloud in otherwise mostly silent cave. There was a dripping coming from somewhere, but the high ceiling made the tiny sound echo at odd angles around them.

Eventually they came across something not carved from stone. A vast circular door emblazoned with a dozen serpents spreading out from the center to the edges like a slithering starburst. The door was made of a heavy, dark metal and even Harry could sense the power that lay dormant in it. Wards, most likely.

Jax seemed to sense the same, as he did not approach it, probably to avoid a sneezing fit.

“ _Should we ask it to open? Or do you think there might be a password?_ ” He asked Jax, but before the snake could even answer there was a clanging sound and the serpents that were spread over the door retracted one by one. The heavy thing swinging open, revealing a far more maintained stretch of cut stone floor and the flicker of brighter torchlight than the current cave provided.

Inside was what had to be the Chamber. If the snake door hadn’t given it away, then the pillars carved onto giant hissing serpents that lined the walk surely did. Harry wondered briefly if Godric Gryffindor had made a secret room, would it be filled with stone lions? What about Hufflepuff? He had to hold in a slightly manic snort at the image of a hidden lair filled with giant badger statues.

The sound of dripping water was louder in here, and Harry saw what looked like a shallow pool surrounding a massive carving of a man at the end of the room. He sported a long beard and a prominent nose, and if Harry were to hazard a guess he’d say it looked as if the man was of Spanish descent more than anything. Harry supposed with a name like Salazar, it should have been obvious. A thousand years ago, who knew how many different peoples were coming north.

What really threw him though, was how _warm_ the Chamber was. The air in here was thick, almost stiflingly so. It made sense, after a moment of thought, that Slytherin would want his basilisk to be as comfortable as possible in its new home. And if Harry knew anything about snakes, it was how much they liked it nice and hot.

Harry stowed his wand, the better preserved torches enough to light the room without its aid. Jax slithered over to inspect one of the stone pillars as Harry looked around. There were what looked to be a few (regular) doorways off to either side that could hold anything from a library to a sleeping chamber to another broom cupboard. Either way, Harry itched to explore them.

Above them, the roof of the Chamber seemed to disappear into inky darkness.

What was distinctly _missing_ from the room were any fifty foot serpents. Harry quietly strode over to Jax and picked him up, cradling the snake in his arms.

“ _Can you smell them?_ ”

Jax flicked his tongue out, tasting the air.

“ _This whole place smells of snake, I can't really pin down anything. Sorry._ ” He hissed dejectedly after a moment, Harry stroked his head softly.

“ _It's fine. Let's go take a look at that statue, maybe there's a clue._ ”

As they approached it, Harry got a better look at Salazar Slytherin. The man had been carved with a frowning expression, his heavy brow downturned in stormy disapproval. He wondered if Slytherin had commissioned the likeness, or if someone had added it after the fact. A giant statue of oneself was not exactly a subtle decorating choice.

He carefully stepped through the thin layer of water that had settled around the base, most likely splashed up from the pools to either side. There were no carved instructions at the base, or if there had been they had long since worn away. Harry poked at the stone a bit, unsurprisingly it felt like normal rock.

He craned his neck to look the statue in the face, its carved eyes a little unnerving in their lack of pupils.

“ _Hello, Lord Slytherin._ ” Harry hissed, half in jest, half out of lack for other options. “ _How are you doing, today?_ ”

The statue continued to glare down at him.

Then, just as Harry was about to move past, to maybe search the rooms beyond, the stone jaw opened with a grinding noise and Harry prudently took a good few paces backwards.

“ _Who calls? Who disturbs my sleep?_ ”

The hiss was low, but loud enough to resonate in Harry’s _bones_. No wonder he'd been able to hear the serpent from all over the castle. He quickly dropped his eyes to the floor, covering Jax’s head with a hand.

There was a loud rasping followed by a thump of something heavy falling to the stone floor, then more rasping.

“ _Sorry!_ ” Harry cried out, suddenly not so sure of the wisdom in searching out a basilisk without a real plan for what to do should he _find_ one. “ _I didn't mean to wake you. I’ve just, erm, I've heard you calling out. I wanted to help. I brought food..._ ” He ended weakly.

He could see the edge of a walk of green scales as the massive serpent drew closer.

“ _Food, Speaker?_ ” He hissed (the voice was very obviously male), sounding cautious, which was frankly ridiculous as the snake was more than capable of swallowing Harry whole. “ _Who are you? What do wish in exchange for this offer?_ ”

Harry very nearly blurted out that he wanted nothing, just to help, but choked it back.

“ _I would appreciate not being petrified,_ ” he said instead, “ _or killed._ ” 

Watching from his peripheral as the basilisk slowly circled him, effectively cutting them off from any escape, he added, “ _And to talk with you._ ”

The basilisk hissed out a disbelieving sound, “ _Why should I trust that you would wish so little, Speaker? That you will follow through with this bargain?_ ”

Harry rather thought his life was well worth a bag of scrounged foodstuffs, even if the basilisk did not seem to think so.

“ _Here._ ” Harry carefully tucked Jax away in his hoodie and dug out a few meat pies from his satchel. They were slightly battered and cold, but Harry figured a starving serpent would not be too picky.

He set the food down and stepped a couple paces back, though any further progress was halted by a wall of green scales.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the giant snake swung his head down to snatch up the pies.

“ _Oooh, onions. I like onions._ ”

Harry very nearly started giggling (probably a bit historically) at the sudden change in demeanor, the basilisk sounded excited now. He could feel a large something pressing up against his front and Harry was fairly certain it was the snake’s giant head. A cold sweat broke out along his spine, he could feel the huffing breath across his face and squeezed his eyes tighter still.

“ _You have more, Speaker? I have not eaten in so very long. The other one, the female, she does not bring offerings; only demands._ ”

The Heir was a girl? Well, that certainly narrowed things down. It had to be a formidable one, to demand things of such a dangerous being.

“ _First you must promise to shield away your gaze._ ” Harry was a little proud of how steady his voice was, even if it seemed to be stuck on a higher register than he'd prefer.

The basilisk huffed hotly against his face, and Harry suspected he was laughing at him.

“ _Very well, Speaker. You need not fear that fate from me._ ”

Harry took a slightly shaky breath before cracking open one eye cautiously.

The basilisk’s head was still pressed in close to Harry. Larger than his arm span, with fangs that poked out over its bottom lip like curved daggers.

Thankfully, when Harry finally looked far enough up to catch the snake’s eye, he did not fall down dead, or stiff as a board. The eyes were huge globes that glowed a warm orange and regarded Harry with a contemplative look. The basilisk’s head was crowned with a ridge of bone spikes and a crest of bright red feathers.

“ _Wow._ ” Harry finally managed, after an embarrassingly long moment, “ _You're beautiful._ ”

The statement made the snake rear back and preen a bit, like Jax sometimes did when people complimented him. It was somewhat bizarre coming from a fifty foot serpent.

“ _And you are a very odd Speaker._ ”

Harry shrugged, digging some more food from his bag. He didn't have any more meat pies, but there was a bit of chicken which he held out gingerly.

The serpent licked the morsels up neatly and looked expectantly at Harry, who started emptying his satchel of all his edible goods. He wished he'd thought to ask the house elves for more. As it was, this was the majority of his trunk’s stash. Which, while not an inconsiderate amount, was probably not enough to satisfy a fifty foot serpent that had most likely not eaten in _years_.

After Harry tossed the last vanilla scone up for him to snatch out of the air, the basilisk huffed again; although this time sounding less amused at Harry’s nervousness and more grumpy at the halt of the feeding.

“ _Sorry._ ” Harry apologized, “ _We can bring more next time._ ”

“ _We?_ ”

Its tongue flicked out, tasting the air before those glowing orange eyes landed on Harry’s middle.

“ _Come out, little brother, I know you are there._ ” The rumbling hiss was teasing, and Harry gave his pocket a bit of a nudge.

If the basilisk had not killed him, he doubted it would go after Jax.

His snake hesitated only a moment longer before poking a shy head out of the perceived safety of the pocket.

“ _Hello._ ” Jax sounded more nervous than Harry had ever heard him before, and he rubbed a soothing thumb over his head.

“ _No need to fear me, little brother. Come out here and tell me of this strange Speaker you travel with._ ”

Jax paused briefly before slinking out of the hoodie and making his way up across Harry’s shoulders, draping himself in a somewhat possessive manner around his neck.

“ _This is Harry Potter, my human. He saved my mother while she was nearing her birthing of me and my nestmates._ ” Jax stated proudly, “I have pledged my life to his, and will allow no harm to befall him while I still have venom in my fangs.”

Harry felt a rush of warm affection towards his friend and brought a hand up to stroke his flank where it circled his neck like a scarf.

“ _A fierce protector, indeed._ ” The basilisk hissed, a note of approval in the sound. “ _I remember promising such to my own Master, it pained me greatly when he passed. Time, I fear, is the most lethal enemy of all; and one that is very rarely beaten._ ”

“ _Your Master? Do you mean Salazar Slytherin?_ ” Harry asked, excitedly.

“ _The very same._ ” The serpent hissed proudly. “ _He was a great and powerful protector of this school and these lands. As his time approached, my Master tasked me to remain here to continue that protection._ ”

“ _If that's true,_ ” Harry spoke cautiously, he needed to step lightly here, “ _why have you been attacking the students?_ ”

The basilisk hissed angrily, jerking his head from side to side as of plagued by buzzing insects.

“ _I do not wish to. The other, the female that comes has a darkness in her that corrupts. It casts a haze over my mind and drives me to go against my Master’s wishes. Twists the promise I made into such wrongness that it eats away at my insides._ ” 

Harry stepped forward, laying a hand on the agitated serpent’s neck and stroking it soothingly as he would Jax.

“ _Hey, it's okay. It's fine. She's not here, it's not your fault._ ”

The basilisk slumped heavily to the floor, his massive head pressed up against Harry’s side. He switched from patting the neck to scratching behind one of the large spikes protruding from the snake’s crown.

He got a pleased hiss in response, so Harry continued, occasionally stroking one of the scarlet feathers. Jax slithered off his shoulders to coil up around a pair of spikes on the other side of the broad head, rubbing his own snout against the green scales under him consolingly.

“ _Is that what happened last time, too?_ ” He asked softly, after a few minutes. The basilisk had shifted his bulk to coil tighter around Harry, wrapping him in a living mass of scales like a full body hug. It would have been terrifying, if Harry did not feel suspiciously as if he were being treated as a human teddy bear.

The coil around him constricted slightly, not enough to hurt but that did have the effect of bringing Harry completely off his feet. He wriggled a little so that he was more or less sitting on the serpent rather than dangling uncomfortably a foot off the ground.

“ _Last time..._ ” The basilisk’s voice was a deep rumble of sorrow. “ _Last time I was tricked. A Speaker came, found me here, in the Chamber my Master made for me. I had not spoken with another in so long and he smelled of Salazar’s blood. I was foolish to listen._ ”

Harry made soothing noises, rubbing at what scales he could reach as the snake coiled into a tighter ball.

“ _It’s not your fault._ ”

“ _I failed at my task, a child died because of my actions._ ”

Jax made a quiet hissing sound, not words but the sympathetic meaning came across all the same.

Harry felt a surge of fiery anger at whomever had opened the Chamber all those years ago and caused such pain and anguish, and for the girl that was forcing the same thing to happen all over again.

“ _I promise, I will never ask you to kill anybody._ ” Harry reassured the serpent, “ _And I’ll find the person responsible for making you do all these terrible things the past few months._ ”

He didn’t know how he was going to accomplish it, but Harry was damn sure going to try.

“ _This other Speaker, does she smell of Slytherin’s blood too?_ ” He asked, as soon as it seemed the basilisk had calmed down some.

“ _The female is not a Speaker._ ” The snake hissed, derisively, “ _She speaks, but does not Speak. It is as if another is using her for a mouthpiece, the darkness that fills her, twists her mind as it does mine._ ”

Oh no, that did not sound good. If the girl was possessed, it would be virtually impossible to find her. The genealogy texts he and his friends had been sifting through were useless in this instance. The only real option Harry could see was having Jax go around sniffing all the girls in the castle, and that had multiple problems in terms of execution and time involved.

He’d figure it out, Harry promised himself, he would.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the flick of a wet tongue across his cheek, knocking his glasses slightly askew.

“ _You smell of my Master, too, little Speaker._ ” The basilisk said, startling Harry even further.

“ _What?_ ”

“ _Different from the other one, but still it is there, if fainter._ ”

“ _Who was the one from before? That betrayed you?_ ” Harry asked, for lack of anything else to say. His mind reeling with this newfound knowledge.

“ _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ ” The snake spit with such venom, Harry was surprised to find his fangs were not literally dripping.

Well, there was a starting point at least.

~~~~~~~>

Severus Snape had just successfully extricated himself from the mass of Weasleys in the hospital wing with, a minimal amount of physical contact, after administering the finished Mandrake Draught to Percy Weasley. He had not been able to avoid a smothering embrace from the boy’s mother, but a dark look across the sea of redheads had disavowed anyone else of the notion that further contact would be tolerated.

“Oh, Severus, thank you so much!” Molly Weasley had cried, still clinging to his robes. “How can we ever repay you?”

“Recompense in unnecessary.” Severus assured her, as the woman finally released him.

“Nonsense! You must come over for supper one of these days. You’re so thin.” She clucked disapprovingly, eyeing his waistline with obvious affront. Severus held in his sigh, catching the amused smirk Arthur Weasley was not doing a good job of hiding.

“Perhaps.” He conceded, knowing the Weasley matriarch would not let the matter drop. “For now, I must return to my laboratory. There is a delicate potion that needs my close attention.”

“Of course, dear, of course.” Molly patted his arm, before turning back to her brood to wait for the Draught to run its course. Young Mr. Weasley should awaken within the hour, and Severus would be back then to question him on what he’d seen.

For now, he slipped from the room and its overabundance of Gryffindors.

He did not get far before a house elf popped directly in front of his path, almost causing Severus to trip over him.

“Master Severus Snape, sir. Fitzy is here to give his report.” The elf seemed more nervous than usual, twisting his fingers tightly into his tea towel. He bit back a sharp reprimand and motioned the elf to continue.

“Fitzy is being checking on Mr. Harry Potter.”

“Yes, and where is he?” Severus fought the urge to simply shake the information out of the elf.

“Mr. Harry Potter is being in the Chamber of Secrets, sir.”

“ _What?!_ ” The elf flinched back, large eyes wide.

“What is he doing in there?” Severus growled out, feeling the rising panic and slamming down his Occlumency shields so he could bloody well _think_.

“He be hugging a basilisk, Master Snape.”

Severus blinked, then pinched his nose hard and let out a frustrated noise that had the elf backing away slowly.

“Of-bleeding-course he is.” Severus pinned Fitzy down with a look, halting the elf’s retreat. “You will take me to the Chamber.”

“Fitzy is sorry, Master Snape! He is not knowing where the Chamber is being.”

It took a monumental amount of self-control not to throttle the elf, it was not Fitzy’s fault that his ward was _insane_.

“How do you know he is in the Chamber, if you do not know where it resides?”

“Fitzy can be Apparating to Harry Potter, sir. As long as he is being on school grounds. So I goes to check on him, as he asked, and report back to Master Snape.”

“Are you able to Side-Along him out of there?”

“No, sir. Sorry, sir. Humans cannot be Apparating on Hogwarts grounds. Not even house elf magic can be getting around the wards.”

Severus clenched his hands into fists, thinking furiously. If he could not bring Harry out, the boy would have to come of his own volition.

“Fitzy.” He snapped at the elf, “Go back to the Chamber and inform Mr. Potter that he is to return to the school proper at once and meet me in my office.”

“Y-yes, Master Snape.” Fitzy disappeared with a crack and Severus very carefully did not destroy anything on his path back to the dungeons.

~~~~~~~>

Harry was listening to the basilisk, whose name was Ximen (it had taken the snake a good ten minutes to remember it, as Salazar and a handful of his children had been the last to use it), talk about what it had been like at the Founding of the school. Ximen had come along with Lord Slytherin when he traveled here to help build, the basilisk had not been even twelve foot long at the time, and could barely swallow a whole rabbit.

He spoke of the wildness of the bordering forest, and how there used to be a moat around the castle. There were indeed whole families housed here, when needed. And they used to teach all the children, not just the magical ones. At least in the subjects they could, like Herbology, and fighting with weapons other than a wand, and charting the stars.

It was fascinating and Harry wanted to sit there all day and listen when Ximen fell silent and swung his great head towards the entrance to the Chamber.

“ _Something is there, I can smell it._ ”

Harry tensed, hand going for his wand.

“ _Is it her?_ ”

“ _No, one of the green folk, and a very nervous one at that._ ”

“Hello?” Harry called out.

“Harry Potter, sir!” Squeaked a familiar voice from behind the open heavy metal door. “You’s is needing to come back upstairs. Master Severus Snape is wanting to see you right away!”

Oh sweet Merlin. Harry was in so much trouble.

“Thank you, Fitzy.” He answered back weakly, “You can tell him I'll be right there.”

There was an affirmative sounding squeak followed by a crack, and Harry slumped down against Ximen’s warm side.

“ _We have to go now._ ” He told the basilisk, sliding down back to the ground to retrieve his satchel from where he'd dropped it earlier. “ _I promise I'll come back, but it might be a while. I'm going to find that girl though, don't worry._ ”

Ximen pressed his head up again Harry’s front, “ _Be careful, little Speaker, I would not see you hurt._ ”

Harry stroked the crimson feathers next to his face, “ _I will be, promise._ ”

Jax slithered his way back onto Harry’s shoulders, with a parting hiss that Ximen returned.

He was just about to head back to the tunnel when it occurred to him that Harry did not actually know how to get out.

“ _Erm, hey Ximen?_ ”

They ended up riding the basilisk along the long slide, which Harry realized must be a pipe, as there were more branching off from it that he had not noticed in their mad journey down into the darkness. _That's how he must be getting around_ , Harry thought, _the pipes._

No wonder he'd been leading him up and down the castle as such speeds, and why no one had been able to find him.

As they reached the top of the pipe, it opened up automatically, revealing the girl's loo; although the water had been cleaned away.

“ _Thank you._ ” Harry told Ximen, giving the giant snake a last scritch under the jaw (being mindful of the fangs).

“ _Be safe, little Speaker. And you as well, little brother. Perhaps you can bring me some more of those things with the onion._

Harry chuckled quietly at the basilisk’s eager tone. “ _I'll do my best, and if I can't get down there soon, I'll try and get Fitzy to bring you some._ ”

If the elf wasn't too scared out his wits, that was.

Then the Chamber was sealing itself, the sink rising up to take its place back. There was a sigh from behind him and Harry turned to see Myrtle floating there, with a pout on her face.

“Oh, you're still alive. I'd hoped you'd died, and we could haunt the toilet together.”

Harry could not think of a worse fate, but put up a regretful look anyway.

“Sorry, maybe next time.”

Myrtle huffed and shook her head, spectral pigtails flapping.

He beat a hasty retreat before the ghost could find a reason to start sobbing. He was halfway to the dungeons before the thought struck that it could have been _Myrtle_ that had died all those years ago. And she had just never left the bathroom in which it had happened. It was a depressing thought. Harry did not think he would enjoy being a ghost, forced to watch all the living people walking around and having fun and growing up. While you stayed the same, eternally stuck and unable to move past your own death.

Harry was so distracted by the thoughts that he didn't notice he was at Snape's door until it was thrown open and he was dragged inside by a tight grip on his arm.

“Wha--?”

“What the blazes did you think you were doing?” Snape’s voice was low and quiet and the sort of dangerous that Harry had never heard directed at himself before. 

The man had a tight grip on both of his arms now and was scanning him up and down with furious black eyes.

“I was just trying to help...” Harry mumbled, feeling his shoulders tense and Jax along with them, the snake’s gaze flicking between Harry and Snape nervously.

“Help? _Help?_ ” Snape’s voice was incredulous, “By getting yourself eaten? Have you no sense of self-preservation, boy?”

The epithet rang in his ears, bringing forward images of being thrown across the room, of belts and screaming and darkness. 

Harry started shaking. Snape was still glaring at him, gripping his arms tightly. He looked oddly pale in the torchlight of the office, a sharp contrast to Uncle Vernon’s various shades of puce. It was the only thing that kept him from shutting down completely.

“You’re hurting me...” He managed to whisper past the rising panic, the words faint and childish to his ears.

Snape let go immediately, as if burned, a stricken look on his white face.

“Harry--”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He interrupted, eyes fixed on the floor and feeling as if he might just fall over any moment, without Snape holding him up. Jax had coiled around him, no doubt glaring fiercely at the Potion Master.

“Harry.” The man said again, “Drink this.”

A thin vial was thrust into his vision, Harry recognized the Calming Draught at once with a sort of detached musing.

“It will help.”

Harry undid the stopper with shaking fingers and managed not to spill any before it reached his mouth. Calming Draughts did not taste the best, but they were warm and acted swiftly. After a moment, Harry no longer felt like was about to collapse and the shaking had subsided to a slight tremble.

“Sit down, Harry. And take off that filthy garment, let me see your arms.”

Harry did as told, settling onto one of the stiff chairs and carefully tugging the hoodie off without dislodging Jax. Underneath, he had on a blue tunic with sleeves short enough that he could see the beginnings of red marks in the shapes of bony fingers on his arms.

Snape let out a hiss, kneeling next to his chair. His long black hair was hanging in his face, obscuring whatever expression he might be making.

“I apologize, Harry.” He said stiffly, as he spread a cool paste over the red marks, they disappeared near instantly. “I should not have grabbed you as I did.”

Harry shrugged, he was the one that had overreacted. Snape had obviously been worried, angry that Harry was being reckless with his own life. Which was miles away from the sorts of things Vernon would find excuses to hurt him for.

“I bruise easily.”

Black eyes glared up at him, “That has absolutely nothing to do with my misconduct.”

“I only meant that I did not mean to worry you so much.”

Snape finished with his other arm and pulled up a chair to sit opposite Harry, hands clasped together between his knees.

“And I should have known better than to handle you in so rough a manner.”

“I guess that makes us even then?” Harry tried, a wry smile making its way forth. Snape huffed quietly, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“Why did you go down into the Chamber? When you knew full well that there was a highly dangerous creature that lived within.” Snape asked after a moment, voice still low and serious, but no longer filled with the anger it had been. “And how did you find it in the first place? When countless others have tried and failed?”

So Harry told him about his hunch with snake carvings and finding one in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and how it led them down to the Chamber.

“Did it not occur to you that going in search of a murderous basilisk was perhaps not the most intelligent of ideas?” Snape asked, voice strained.

Harry gave him a look, “Ximen isn't like that, he's nice.”

Snape pinched his nose, “You _named_ it?”

“Of course not,” Harry scoffed, “Salazar Slytherin did. He charged Ximen with protecting the school, which I think he's done a pretty good job of it so far.”

The Potion Master scowled, “Did you miss the slew of petrified children? Not to mention the first time the Chamber was opened and a girl was killed?”

“That's not fair. It wasn't Ximen’s fault,” Harry protested, scowling right back, “Tom Riddle manipulated him, took advantage of his loneliness and connection to Slytherin.”

Snape inhaled sharply and pinned Harry with a searching gaze, “Where did you hear that name?”

Harry blinked, surprised, if he didn't know any better he'd think Snape sounded _scared_. It was not an emotion Harry had ever thought to associate with the powerfully competent Potion Master.

“Ximen told me.” Harry said slowly, “Do you know him? Who is he?”

Snape made a cutting motion with his hand, “A dangerous man that you are _not_ to go searching for.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape cut him off with a look. “Listen to me, Harry. I do not care how clever you think you were in solving the mystery of the Chamber. Or how empathetic you may feel towards this basilisk. Or how much you simply wish to _know_. To search out Tom Riddle is to court death. Death and suffering the likes of which you, with all your past experiences, would still find unbearable in the extreme.”

Harry stared, shaken by the vehemence in Snape’s voice, the pain that pooled behind his black eyes. He nodded, a jerky movement.

“Okay.”

Snape eyed him a moment longer, as if to make certain his point had come across. Then he sat back and regarded Harry with something worse than anger, or spite, or hatred.

_Disappointment_.

And suddenly, Harry felt about two inches tall; an acidic welling of guilt bubbling up inside him.

Snape seemed to realize this because his next words cut like knives.

“It seems you have more of your father in you than I had thought.”

Coming from anyone else it would have been intended as a high compliment. From Snape... Harry slumped down in the chair, dropping his gaze to the floor and doing his utmost to lock down the guilt trying to consume him from the inside.

“I'm sorry.” He said again, as useless as it was. 

“Sorrys will not save you from easily preventable, idiotic mistakes. Or brashly running headlong into know danger. You could have _died_ , Harry. What if the basilisk had not been so even tempered? Or starved to the point of insanity? What if the supposed Heir that has been running around this school had been there, too?”

Harry hadn't thought of that. He hadn't thought much past finding the Chamber and helping a suffering creature. Harry hunched down further, knowing he could not possibly feel any worse. Then Snape twisted the proverbial knife deeper.

“You could have gotten not only yourself, but your _familiar_ , killed.”

Harry let out a strangled sound, hand shooting up to hold Jax where the serpent was wrapped around his neck. The snake rubbed against his hand reassuringly, but it did little to assuage the roiling emotions inside him.

What if something had happened to Jax? It would have been all Harry’s fault...

There were tears brimming in his eyes now, but Harry didn't care. He'd been so stupid to rush in like that, so arrogant. He deserved all the harsh words Snape was throwing at him. He wished suddenly that the man had not soothed away the almost-bruises, had gripped him harder. He deserved a lasting reminder.

“Harry.” There was a cup of tea under his nose and Harry grabbed it on instinct, his fingers had gone cold and the hot china stung them slightly. He held the cup tighter.

Snape laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, hardly touching him, the opposite of earlier.

“I do not wish to be so harsh, but you _must_ understand how foolish you acted.” Snape’s voice had softened, providing a balm that Harry did not want or merit.

He managed a shaky nod and a sip of too hot tea.

“I am not going to assign you detention, this is not a school matter.” Harry looked up in surprise, Snape was frowning thoughtfully before one corner of his mouth twisted wryly. “You’re grounded. For the next two months at least.”

What? _Grounded?_ Harry’s mind flashed back to being shoved into his cupboard for days on end, no food and minimal water. Usually accompanied by the swift snap of a belt that left him aching the whole time. Could Snape do that? Did he have the authority? He was Head of Slytherin House and Harry’s legal guardian, so it was possible. The real question was if Harry wanted to argue about it. He had acted rashly, risked a lot more than he'd thought at the time.

He was bracing himself for the inevitable incoming punishment, determined to take it with as much dignity as he could muster.

“You are not to go anywhere other than the Great Hall for meals, for which I expect to see you at each and every one, the library to study, once your classes resume, and the common room.” Snape continued, voice firm and unwavering. “You are not to go wandering about the school for any reason. Nor are you to walk anywhere alone.”

Snape’s black eyes flicked up to Jax before he continued, “Your familiar does not count in this case, it need be another student or a house elf, although only if one has the time to spare. I believe young Mr. Malfoy would delight in playing chaperone.”

Harry was too stunned to react to that. This did not resemble any form of grounding Harry had ever endured. All his meals? Not being confined to a single small space?

“Is-- is that all, sir?” He asked hesitantly when it looked as if Snape was done speaking.

The man grimaced, “Do you wish to be set cauldrons to scrub as well? That can be arranged.”

“No.” He answered hastily, still confused. “I mean...” He couldn't force the words out. Phantom twinges of pain laced across his back, making Harry squirm unconsciously in his seat.

Snape seemed to get the gist of it in any case, as the man scowled darkly and shook his head with such a violent motion that Harry heard an audible crack.

“I am _not_ your Uncle. I will _never_ lay against you in punishment.” Snape said with such strident fervor, that Harry could do nothing but believe him. “If I ever raise a hand against you, Harry, you have my full permission to sic that snake of yours on me. As I will no doubt be not of my right mind, and therefore a danger. I should not have hurt you earlier, and for that I am truly repentant. Just know that it will _never_ be a possibility, if or when you require any sort of reprimand. Not from me, nor any other adult trusted with your care.”

He caught Harry’s gaze, as if making sure he was hearing and taking in every word.

“If anyone, adult or otherwise, tries such, you are to come directly to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now,” Snape continued, refilling Harry cup of tea; he hadn’t even realized it was empty. “You are to tell me everything you have learned from this _Ximen_. After which, I shall escort you to the common room, where you will remain until dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

~~~~~~>

Severus Snape sat in front of the fire in his personal quarters, a bottle of Ogden’s Best sitting on the table before him, untouched. As much as he needed a drink, the thought of it after the afternoon’s events only brought forth black memories of his own substandard upbringing. His father had been a layabout and a drunk, and Severus knew full well the feeling of a belt or backhand. And the utter unfairness of having earned neither.

The expectation he had seen in the boy’s face of the same treatment, it had soured what little relief he'd gained in finding Harry returned from the Chamber unharmed.

That Potter would think that of him, after all this time...

Severus was not the boy’s father, it should not cause such strife within him to be thought such a monster. Did he not purposefully put up such a front for the other children thrust into his care every year? Severus was the Bat of the Dungeons that all the older students told scary tales about to their younger counterparts. He was feared more than respected, which was as much as Severus had ever hoped to gain out of his life after the Dark Lord, and his own desperately idiotic choices, had all but ruined it.

Why then, did it seem to matter so utterly what this one child thought of him?

Severus ran a hand through his hair, barely resisting the urge to pull it out in a fit of frustration.

Why should the boy not think the worst of him? It was Severus’ own fault that Potter had spent his childhood in such deplorable circumstances. Not that Harry knew that, of course. But the boy had intuition when it suited him, and Severus deserved nothing less. Look at how he had hurt him whilst only trying to ascertain that Harry was still in one piece. Severus was not well suited to such a role as caring for another human so utterly. Too bitter, too easy to anger still after all his work in controlling and locking down his temper.

Severus let out a frustrated sound, pushing away from his seat and taking to pacing the room with too long strides that ate up floorspace far too quickly, forcing him to about-face an irritating amount.

Guilt was a familiar companion to him, one that had overstayed its welcome years ago but did not look to be shifting any time soon. This darkness swirling inside him was not that. It felt suspiciously like _failure_. Which was something that Severus simply could not abide in himself, not anymore. The inherent problem being that he did not know how to rid himself of the feeling.

The boy. Everything seemed to increasingly revolve around Potter. Severus feared the only way to clear away the unrest was to continue, to push forward as he had always done. If Harry truly thought so little of him, no matter that he was well within his rights to, he would just have to keep proving him wrong at every turn. Eventually the boy would understand that... What? That Severus _cared_ for him? Did not wish to see him harmed? Wanted, in fact, to see him _happy_? The very thought of such sentimental nonsense was absurd. And yet, Severus could find no other viable reason within himself to be reacting in so foolish a way.

He growled, kicking out at the hard stone of his fireplace. 

_Merlin’s saggy balls_ , Severus thought in exhausted defeat, _how had this happened?_


	18. Chapter 18

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Malfoy drawled from beside him, “but isn't the Great Hall in the _other_ direction?”

Harry shrugged, aiming a smirk at the other boy. “It is, we’re just taking the scenic route.”

“The scenic route.” was the slightly incredulous reply, Malfoy raising his pale eyebrows at the surrounding gray, windowless corridor.

Harry snorted, “Yes. Just wait, I think you'll like this.”

Draco sent him another dubious look but followed along gamely enough. The blonde had taken to the task of sticking around Harry with a sort of suppressed smugness that made Harry want to roll his eyes but was otherwise harmless. Snape hadn't told Draco exactly why he wanted him to turn into Harry’s second shadow, for which he was grateful, just that it needed doing.

It was mildly irritating that Snape had also confiscated his Invisibility Cloak, but not unsurprising. The guilt he felt at putting Jax, and himself, into so dangerous a situation without fully thinking it through was enough to get him to hand over the Cloak with little protest.

Shaking himself loose of the brooding thoughts, Harry stopped them before a particular painting of a bowl of fruit. He gave Malfoy a wink before ticking the pear and leading them into the warm bustle of the kitchens.

A surprised gasp from behind him had Harry smirking again in amusement.

“How long have you known how to get into the kitchens?” Draco demanded, and Harry didn't even need to look to know that the boy probably had his hands on his hips and was glaring in affront about Harry withholding such valuable knowledge.

“Oh, since last year.” He replied flippantly, waving a hand, “How do you think I was able to talk the house elves into sending up my favorite foods?”

Draco huffed but dropped the matter when Fitzy hopped up to them with a more nervous version of the smile Harry was used to seeing on the elf.

“Is Mr. Harry Potter be needing Fitzy for something?”

Oh, definitely nervous. The elf was usually falling all over himself to offer up food and drink or too many sweets for even Crabbe and Goyle to gobble down (although the two hulking boys were not present at the moment).

“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday, Fitzy.” Harry started, trying to put the elf at ease. “I had forgotten that you were checking up on me, and didn't mean to give you such a fright.”

If anything, that seemed to shock the elf out of his nervousness at least, as he turned big, wide eyes up at Harry in astonishment.

“There is no need, Mr. Harry Potter! Fitzy is be doing his job, he is not letting any snakes stop him from it!”

Harry grinned down at the elf, “That's great, Fitzy! Because I wanted to ask you a favor for my new friend.”

Now Fitzy looked consternated that he'd cornered himself, “Master Severus Snape be saying not to let you back there.”

“It's nothing like that.” Harry reassured him, even though it very much was. “I’m not going to.” Yet. “I was just wondering if you guys could make up some big meat pies and leave them down there for my new friend. He’s just so hungry, and you know why I can't do it myself.”

He put some pleading into the tone, beseeching the elf. Fitzy fidgeted for a few moments, his bat ears flapping a bit.

“Oh! And I brought you a gift, to show how sorry I am.” Harry pulled out a muggle bottle of ginger ale from his satchel, holding it out to the elf. He'd ordered a few different fizzy drinks to bribe Millicent into helping him with Charms work, he could spare one for the cause. 

Fitzy looked even more flabbergasted at the gesture and tried to refuse it out of hand. But Harry waved away the protests and twisted off the metal cap for the elf and held it out expectantly.

When it became apparent that Harry was not about to be dissuaded, he gingerly accepted the drink and took a cautious sip. If the sudden widening of his eyes and rapid flapping of ears were anything to go by, it was a hit.

“Mr. Harry Potter is too generous!” Fitzy managed, after downing half the bottle in a few happy gulps.

“I'm glad you like it, I can get more of them for you; if you want?”

The elf eyed him shrewdly, seeing exactly where this was going. But his hands were still tight about the bottle, so Harry just quirked an eyebrow.

Fitzy grumbled for a few more moments before finally giving in and promising to drop off some pies.

“Oh, and if you could add extra onions, I'm sure it would be greatly appreciated.”

Fitzy nodded vaguely, distracted by the last few drops of fizzy drink.

Harry then had to spend a few good minutes extricating them from the kitchens without being weighed down with copious amounts of sweets and warm honeyed milk. Draco, he noticed, did not try too hard to refuse the gifts.

The blonde had been suspiciously quiet during the exchange, but that did not last long into their resumed journey to the Great Hall.

“So,” He said around a green and silver striped candy cane, “who’s this _new friend_ and why has Snape forbidden you to see them?”

Harry shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing. He had thought about trying to sneak away from Malfoy to talk to the elves alone, but dismissed the idea. As much as their tentative truce was new, Harry did not want the other boy to catch any flak from Snape because Harry managed to give him the slip. And he couldn't wait long enough for the Potion Master to lift his punishment, as the guilt of knowing Ximen was still hungry down there ate away at him on a personal level.

So he'd compromised and tried to be vague enough in his request that maybe he could pass it off. But Draco, for all his tendencies to not think before speaking, was still one of the sharpest students in their year.

“That elf said it was a snake. Were you in the forest? Is that why Snape's upset with you?”

Harry sighed, “Yeah, he was pretty angry when he found out where I was.”

Draco narrowed his gray eyes at him, the candy cane had acquired a somewhat vicious point.

“You’re lying.” He finally stated, motioning at Harry with the sweet.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Look, Draco, I don't want to talk about it. Let's just eat breakfast, we're almost to the Great Hall now.”

Malfoy dropped it, if only for the very Slytherin reason of not wanting to be overheard. And perhaps a more selfish one of wanting to be in the know on a secret.

“Fine, but don't think I've forgotten.”

“Perish the thought.”

Breakfast was uneventful, unless you counted the sight of Oliver Wood trying to spoon feed Percy Weasley with the determined air of someone forcing care and nurturing onto a person whether they liked it or not. Weasley had given up protesting after the third spoonful of porridge ended up in his neatly combed hair. Harry was not so surprised to see the soft look the prefect sent Wood when the other boy was busy fusing with pouring him a new cup of tea. Given how distraught the Gryffindor Keeper had been these last few weeks, it was nice to see the affection was not too one-sided.

The Gryffindor end of the table was in vastly higher spirits than it had been for the majority of the break. Although Harry did notice Ginny Weasley still looked more exhausted than not, pushing her eggs around her plate but never actually taking a bite. He hadn't spent too long looking that way though, mindful of the revelation he'd had earlier about the girl's probable feelings. Harry really did hope she got over it before he was forced into an awkward conversation. It wasn’t that he thought the girl wasn’t nice enough, or anything, Harry just... really wasn’t interested.

After the meal, the Weasleys tried to rope them into another pick up Quidditch game, but Harry had to beg off again, as he doubted Snape would consider the pitch as a viable location to spend time whilst grounded. Malfoy had backed him up, citing they had planned to work on an essay. It was a nice gesture, and Harry felt a twinge of guilt that the blonde was missing out on some quality flying time, but grateful nonetheless for the solidarity.

It went like that for most of the rest of the break. Malfoy would tag along to the library, or sit in the common room with him to study or play chess, or spend a few hours resuming his goal in teaching Jax more fluency in English. A task that mostly resulted in the snake eating too many Ice Mice and tricking Draco into spending more time petting him than anything. Which just told Harry that his friend was making fine progress in any case, so he let Jax do as he pleased, mostly.

Harry had managed to convince the house elves to set up a weekly drop for Ximen, until he could figure a more permanent solution out. Not that much of anything could be done until the rest of the student body returned. Hopefully this false Heir would take a break before trying anything more.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if Percy Weasley had not been able to provide any further details about them. As the frozen, shocked face he'd been sporting the last month had been due to the surprise at finding not a student out of bed, but a rather large snake filling most of the lab space. He'd been saved from Ximen’s gaze by seeing it in the reflection of the spilled potion, which was a very lucky thing indeed.

Harry had come by all this information by overhearing Ron Weasley discussing it with his sister in a worried, and not very quiet, tone while on the way to the library. He and Draco had pressed themselves to the wall before the bend in the corridor and quietly listened. Ginny Weasley did not seem to want to talk about it, but Ron seemed even more oblivious to social cues.

It was a bit disappointing that he hadn’t learned anything new, and in all probability, knew more than most people at that point. Also, Ron Weasley tended to ramble and repeat himself a lot. So after a few minutes, when it was clear no new information was incoming, they continued on their way; effectively cutting off the Gryffindors’ conversation.

The elder Weasley glared suspiciously at them, which Malfoy matched with a sneer, but he didn't say anything. Or start shouting accusations at Harry. So he just hurried them along before that changed.

On the day before the students were set to arrive, Snape pulled Harry aside after breakfast to inform him that he was going into London that day for the Lockhart trial. In all the chaos of the holidays, Harry had completely forgotten about it.

“And you're sure I don't have to go?” He asked, trying to mask how very much he hoped that to be true.

Snape scowled a bit, “I am tempted to take you along in any case, just to be sure you stay out of mischief whilst I am away.”

Harry resisted the urge to slump.

“But, no, you are not required to be present. I shall make certain that your name is kept out of any coverage the trial may have.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry told him, relieved, the last thing he wanted was more attention. But he was not against Lockhart catching some bad press from the day’s events, if at all possible.

Snape seemed to be of the same mindset, if the lingering smirk was anything to go by.

“Please give Miss Reid my thanks as well.” He added, truly grateful for all she had done for him.

Snape gave an affirmative nod before briefly setting a hand on Harry’s shoulder, the simple gesture comforting him much more than it rightly should. That is, until the man aimed a smirk over Harry’s head and spoke again, this time with a dryly amused tone.

“I should attend to some last minute preparations then, so as to give Mr. Malfoy here a chance to question you all about it before he bursts from the effort of holding in such copious amounts of curiosity.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder to roll his eyes at a slightly abashed looking Malfoy, and by the time he turned back Snape was already to the dungeon's entrance; leaving Harry to fend for himself.

“So,” Draco drawled, unrepentant about being caught out eavesdropping, despite his momentary embarrassment. “You’re suing Lockhart? I assume about the arm incident?”

It was said with an almost gleeful smugness that Harry had a hard time not matching a smirk to. They were together in the belief of the utter uselessness of their Defense Professor, and any chance to knock the peacock down a few pegs was gladly taken. So Harry spent the morning telling Malfoy about his lawyer and the expected outcome of the trial. 

It was not so bad a morning, until Malfoy decided that Harry must be in a sharing sort of mood and started in on the questions about his punishment again.

“It must have been something pretty severe, for Snape to react the way he has towards _you_.”

Harry didn’t look up from where he was petting Jax in front of the common room fire, the snake was back in his green jumper and napping up a storm.

“What do you mean by that? Everyone knows Snape’s not shy about doling out punishments.”

“Sure, to _Gryffindors_ and idiots messing around in his class. But everyone also knows that you are far and away his favorite student.” It was said with a tiny edge of bitterness, but that was understandable coming the Potion Master’s godson.

Harry didn’t bother trying to deny it or offer up empty platitudes, even he could see the truth in the statement. Although, there were factors in play that Malfoy did not know about and Harry was not about to give them up just to try and keep up a pointless front.

“Do you want to know what I think happened?”

“Not particularly,” Harry snarked, “but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

“I think you found the Chamber of Secrets.” the blonde continued, an air of superiority practically coming off him in waves, “And your _new friend_ is the basilisk that has been running around petrifying all the--” He stopped short at the sharp look Harry shot him, choosing his next words with obvious care, “--other students.”

Harry finally rose from the flagstones and stood to face the smirking blonde.

“How do you know it’s a basilisk in there?” He evaded.

“What else could it be?” the boy scoffed, “So, you _did_ find the Chamber? Where is it? Can I see? I want to meet this basilisk.”

“No.” Harry stated, voice flat and uncompromising. “Besides the fact that that is a monumentally stupid thing to do, Snape has expressly forbidden me to return there.”

“Yes, but Uncle Severus is not here right now, he’s off in London.” Malfoy wheedled, a whine creeping into his voice. Harry was familiar with that tone, having heard it from his spoiled cousin on far too many occasions.

“No, Draco.” He glared, putting as much steel behind the words as he could manage. “There is more at stake here than your curiosity.”

When the blonde looked as if he wanted to protest some more, Harry cut him off. “This is obviously a test.” He quirked an eyebrow at the pouting boy, “Or did you think Snape was stupid enough not to leave instructions with the house elves to inform him immediately if I so much as stick a toe out of line while he’s away?”

That seemed to finally get through to him and Malfoy slumped back on the sofa in defeat.

“Can you at least tell me about it?”

“No.” Harry shook his head firmly, a flash of selfishness in wanting to keep what he’d found to himself racing through him. “I’m not going to talk about this.”

And with that he scooped up Jax and headed towards the dorms.

“Where are going?”

“To take a nap.” Harry grumbled, just wanting some time to himself and away from annoyingly perceptive blondes.

It was as he was digging through his satchel for his walkman that Harry found the diary. He’d forgotten all about the book in his panic and hadn’t had cause to carry his bag around much the last few days. It had come unraveled from the scarf, and he’d very nearly just tossed it aside before the odd sense of the thing registered. He glanced over at Jax on his nightstand, asleep on one of the charmed-warm flat rocks Millicent had gifted him last year. The snake had said it smelled Dark, but Dark did not automatically equate to _malicious_.

There was something about the thing, something Harry could not quite place his finger on but that he felt all the same.

It wasn’t a particularly fancy looking diary, plain brown leather, thin, with a faded gold script on the back reading 1943. Curiously, he opened the front cover. The first page was blank, but the inside cover had a faint stamp naming a shop on Vauxhall Road in London. So it must have belonged to a muggleborn or half-blood, to have come from a muggle shop.

Harry quickly flipped through the thin book, all the pages were blank, and it wasn’t magically expanded like the potions journal Blaise had sent him. It just seemed like an ordinary diary... that someone had felt the urgent need to flush... and smelled strongly of Dark magic... and called to something deep in Harry that he could not name.

The inside of the back cover held the last clue, a neatly penned inscription that was not faded in the least, _Property of T. M. Riddle_.

A cold shiver ran down Harry’s spine and he dropped the book like a hot coal.

T. M. Riddle.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The boy descendant from Slytherin that had made Ximen turn against his Master’s wishes, whose name had spooked the unflappable Professor Snape enough that even Harry could see how unnerved he was.

The possibilities of this diary being an innocent thing had dropped considerably.

Snape had been adamant about Harry not trying to go after this Tom Riddle person, which he’d not really been planning to do. The man must be pretty old by now and could be anywhere in the world. Harry wouldn’t even know where to begin, even if he wanted to. No, as much as it pained him that Ximen had been hurt by Tom Riddle, there was really nothing he could do about it. At least, not while he was still in school, and also so untrained. And _twelve_.

Harry held no illusions that he would be able to go up against a fully grown and presumably powerful wizard any time soon. Quirrell had been a fluke, Harry knew he’d been more lucky than anything. If he hadn’t had his mother’s blood protection... well, it just did not bear thinking about.

Snape had never said anything about not finding out who Riddle _was_ , though. That knowledge alone couldn’t really hurt, could it? Besides, there could be a clue as to who this girl was. I couldn't be a coincidence, this book showing up now. And it wasn’t as if he could just go give it over to Snape now with the man out in London at the moment.

Picking the diary up again, Harry carefully turned a few pages, trying to see if he’d missed anything in his first hasty glance.

Nothing.

Every page was blank, hmm.

There had been _something_ about the book when they'd picked it up...

Harry thought back to the flooded bathroom and his conversation with Myrtle. It took a second before he remembered: in all that water, the diary had still been bone dry.

So maybe there was an enchantment on the pages that hid what was written? It could have just been a simple Impervious Charm, but Harry doubted it. This Riddle character had to be smarter than that.

Careful not to wake the sleeping Jax, Harry gathered a quill and ink bottle from his bedside table.

Reopening the book to its first page, he let a drop of black fall upon it. The ink sat there for a moment before being completely absorbed by the paper. Not smeared, or run off, or spread out in a dark blotch over the aged yellow page; but sucked in as if it had never been there. Leaving a perfectly clean space behind.

“Huh.” Harry dipped his quill again, this time actually writing something out.

_Who is T. M. Riddle?_

The words stayed in place for a few seconds before disappearing into the paper. Harry did not have to wait long for a reaction.

A neatly penned response appeared in the space underneath where he’d written. The handwriting almost painfully exact, as if the force behind the diary wanted to make up for Harry less than stellar use of quill and ink. Which, Harry conceded, was fair. He'd gotten better at it since he'd started at Hogwarts, but he feared it was not a skill that would ever come easy to him; no doubt to the despair of his teachers.

_Who is asking?_

Harry thought about it carefully before answering: _A Slytherin._ it was true. In more ways than Harry had ever expected it to be, if Ximen was to be believed. And Harry could not see any reason for the basilisk to lie about something like that.

_Then we have that in common._

_So you're Riddle, then?_

_Clever. Yes, I am he, of a sort. You may call me Tom._

Harry snorted at the snooty answer, Riddle obviously thought much of himself. Before he could ask another question, a line of text appeared.

_And who may I ask, are you?_

Harry hesitated, he did not want to give too much away; knowing how deceptive Riddle was supposed to be. He did not even know how this diary worked. Was the man somewhere out in the world, with a similar book seeing what Harry was writing? Or was it like the pensieve, with memories somehow soaked into the pages, giving the illusion of conscious thought? Or something else entirely? Something to explain why the diary smelled so Dark and seemed to call out to him?

_You can call me Evan._ He finally jotted down.

_And is Evan who you are known as? Or simply what you wish to be referred to, my clever Slytherin?_

He glared down at the book, Harry was not Tom Riddle’s anything.

_To some._ He conceded after a moment, _You’ll forgive me if I don’t wish to spill out all of my secrets to a mysterious talking book._

_A prudent measure, to be sure. Tell me, Evan: how came you by my diary?_

_I found it in a flooded girl’s loo, someone tried to flush it._ Harry wrote with not a little amount of amusement.

_Well that was rather rude of them._ Came the reply, a sense of wry affront somehow translating through the neatly penned letters. _It is a quite a good thing, then, that I preserved my memories in something far more lasting than mere ink and paper._

_Is that what you are? A memory?_

_Of a sort. But enough about me, I wish to know more about you, Evan. If you don’t mind, of course. Are you at Hogwarts now? What year are you in?_

The questions seemed innocent enough, but Harry was wary of answering too much. He could see how Ximen could have been pulled in by Riddle, the man seemed charming and pleasant. And if Harry hadn’t known better, he might have been completely fooled himself, as it was...

_Second year._ He compromised, Riddle could make assumptions of his location all he wished. But even if there was a man on the other side of things, he had no way of knowing who to look for even if he wanted. There were no second year Slytherins named Evan, Harry didn’t think there were even any of that name at all in his House at the moment.

_I must be difficult,_ the diary broke his train of thought with more words flowing onto the page, _being a half-blood in our great House._

Harry’s blood ran cold, how--?

_What makes you think I’m a half-blood?_ He wrote hastily, maybe too much so. But the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end, and he needed to know how in Merlin’s name the diary could possibly have known that. Was there a charm on it that detected lineage? Some form of Blood Magic? Was that the reason for its Dark aura?

_Besides the frankly atrocious penmanship?_ Riddle teased, _It takes like to recognize like, does it not? ‘Evan’, even as a pseudonym, is not a very wizarding name._

Harry slumped out of his tense state in mild relief, _Clever._ He rejoined.

So, Tom Riddle was a half-blood. Now that he thought about it, Riddle was not so wizarding a name either. _Marvolo_ , on the other hand. Perhaps it was from his mother’s side that he claimed his magical heritage. And through her that the line led all the way back to Salazar Slytherin. He would need to take another look at the genealogy tomes, or maybe see if Hogwarts kept yearbooks. It would need to be from around the turn of the century, Harry thought, given traditional magical naming conventions. He had a feeling that if it was Riddle’s mother that was a witch, then Marvolo had to be his Grandfather, or perhaps an uncle or other close male relative. If he could find Marvolo, then maybe he could figure out where his own line diverged from that of Riddle’s.

Ximen had been clear enough that they were not descended from exactly the same roots, so at most they had to be very, very distant cousins of a sort. Which given the nature of magical Britain's tendency to entangle their trees far more than strictly necessary, it was not altogether surprising. He was probably not the only student running around Hogwarts with a few drops of Founder’s blood in them. A thousand years was a long time to sow out a family.

He was broken out of his thoughts once more by the diary, _Tell me, Evan, are there still Malfoys in residence? And if so, are they just as arrogant and unrelentingly blonde as in my day?_

Harry snorted in amusement despite himself, _Oh yes, one seems to have attached themselves to me, in fact. Merlin knows why._

_Perhaps a pet project, Malfoys do so love those._ came the dry reply, _Although you seem clever enough to turn that around, as entitled as they may be, a Malfoy is almost always a powerful ally to have._

True enough, Harry knew, Draco was always going on about how influential and important his father was. A tone of pride and eagerness to live up to that same potential present whenever he did so. Harry had already considered the possibilities, one of the many reasons he was trying to turn the boy away from blindly following Lord Malfoy’s hateful rhetoric, and towards a more neutral standpoint. One that would force the other boy to think before speaking or acting in such mindless ignorance. Draco was smart, and Harry would not care to have that turned against him. Nor did he want him getting himself Too deep into any real trouble without realizing until it was far too late. Despite himself, Harry had come to like Malfoy, when he wasn’t being a prick. And he could see the potential for greatness in him that Harry wished to find in himself as well.

He spent so long writing back and forth with Riddle that eventually Draco had to come in to retrieve him for dinner, a mildly pinched look on his pointed face. Harry snapped the diary shut, he hadn’t even noticed it had gotten so late. Riddle was amusing to speak with, dryly sarcastic and a font of knowledge about nearly any subject. Harry had been careful not to give too much of himself away, at least he hoped he had, mostly letting Riddle go on. The memory, or whatever it was, certainly enjoyed talking; and took very little encouragement to do so.

Still, Harry did not like the fact that he had been so distracted as to not notice the hours flying by, he carefully stowed away the diary in his trunk as Draco hovered in the doorway.

“I wished to apologize.” the blonde said finally, squaring his shoulders and tilting his pointed chin up. “I should not have pushed you as I did.”

“It’s fine, Draco.” Harry reassured him, his annoyance with the other boy long since dissipated. “Just don’t ask again, alright? It was stupid of me to go down there in the first place, and I refuse to drag anybody else into such potential danger.”

“It wouldn't be dangerous,” Malfoy argued, some of the awkwardness draining out of his stiff posture, “not with you there to speak to the basilisk.”

“And what if the basilisk is not the only one down there? What if the Heir happen to be there as well?” Harry threw out Snape’s words as he gathered Jax from his rock, the snake grumbled and slithered under Harry’s jumper to lay against his warmer skin and go right back to sleep.

“We’re Slytherins, why would the Heir want to hurt us?”

Harry sighed and shook his head, leading the way out of the dorms. Crabbe and Goyle were once more nowhere in sight, an odd absence that had been occurring since Draco had taken up his unofficial role as chaperone to Harry’s punishment. Perhaps the blonde had sent them off, wanting to spend time with Harry without their hulking presence. Or maybe he was overthinking things and the boys simply did not feel the need to follow Malfoy around at all hours, as he’d assumed.

“Do you really think this Heir would care about our House if we uncovered their lair and got in the way of their plans?” Harry reasoned, trying to keep the biting sarcasm out of his voice, “Look what happened to Percy Weasley, he was just doing his patrols and stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have. I can guarantee it had nothing to do with his blood status or the reputation of his family. He was very obviously just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Draco had sneered a bit at the mention of Weasley, but he always did that, like an unconscious tick wherever one of the red-heads was named in his presence; so Harry ignored it for now.

“Or the Bloody Baron.” He continued before the other boy could protest, “If they were willing to attack Slytherin House’s own ghost, what makes you think they would care about a couple of idiot second years that happened to stumble into something they shouldn’t have?”

Draco huffed, looking annoyed at the logic, “I suppose.” He conceded, as they stepped through the common room door and out into the dungeons proper.

Harry nudged their shoulders together briefly, sharing a rare smile, “Maybe when all this Heir nonsense if over with I can take you down there.” He offered, if only to appease the boy somewhat and get him to stop asking.

“Really?” There was an excited gleam in his gray eyes now, and Harry rolled his own in response.

“Sure, but only if you stop bothering me about it.”

Draco rolled his own eyes, but he was smiling when they made it to the Great Hall, so Harry figured they had a deal.


	19. Chapter 19

The students arrived the next day just in time for a special afternoon edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry, curious, had glanced over at Malfoy’s when his handsome eagle owl, Horus, had dropped it neatly next to his plate. Splashed across the front page, in frankly an unnecessarily large and bold font, was:

HANDSOMELY HEROIC GILDEROY LOCKHART CONVICTED OF CHURLISH CHILD ENDANGERMENT!

_Has the charismatic creature hunter been hiding nefarious intents all these years? What devious thoughts dwell behind those baby blue eyes? How many lies have passed through that award winning smile? Find out in this exclusive exposé, penned by the always alluringly analytical Rita Skeeter, as we dig into--_

Harry snorted at the over dramatic sensationalism, not bothering to read further. Snape had returned the night before and given Harry the rundown of the trial. Miss Reid had indeed torn the man to shreds in a concise and ruthless manner. Harry was so very glad he had hired her. Lockhart had been leveled with a hefty fine and would be allowed to finish out the school year, after which he would be unceremoniously sacked.

From Harry’s understanding, the only reason Lockhart was not being let go at once was because the intent behind his pompous incompetence had not been to purposefully _harm._ Still, it was satisfying to look up at the teacher’s table to see the over-toothy grin wiped from the man's face for once. In fact, it seemed as if Lockhart had forgotten to even style his hair that morning; the normally luscious brown locks lying limply across his forehead as the man stared dully out over the sea of whispering students.

Blaise, sitting across from him, leaned over and snatched the paper from Malfoy’s hands; ignoring the protesting noise the blonde gave out. Harry had explained to his friends when they arrived that morning to find Draco acting as his second, blonder, shadow. They had taken the news with middling acceptance.

Blaise somewhat softening the bored and aloft way he looked at Malfoy, but not offering any further indication of returning to the easy bickering ways they'd practiced before. While Millicent had snorted and glared a bit.

“Does that mean she’ll stop pummeling me with Bludgers at practice?” Draco had murmured to Harry as he eyed the stocky girl warily.

Millicent had cracked her knuckles at him, which had the boy paling a bit. But Harry could see the amusement behind the girl's moody brown eyes, he figured Malfoy would be fine.

“Well done, Harry.” Blaise said, skimming the article with the sort of suppressed glee he only got from particularly juicy gossip and playing sneaky word games. It was all in the twist of his smirk and the not quite muffled sharpness in his dark eyes. “You even managed to get Skeeter on it, that woman is _vicious_ with a quill.”

Harry shrugged, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.

“I'm just glad they managed to keep my name out of it.” He glanced around the room, watching as the news slowly spread amongst the students; causing a noticeable uptick in conversation. “Not that it will matter much here, everyone knows what happened at the Quidditch game. They're bound to figure out who the charges were raised by, not even the Gryffindors are _that_ dense.”

Millicent and Draco snorted at the same time and the girl didn't even glare at him for it, progress.

“I suppose,” Blaise muttered, still scanning the paper, “but it's been forbidden to _print_ your involvement, so at least there's that.”

“Oi, Potter.” Parkinson called from up the table, her pug face grinning but still giving off an air of meanness for it. “How much did you get for that stunt?”

Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow and took another bite of his sandwich. Draco, on the other hand, looked completely affronted and glared down his nose at the girl.

“Really, Pansy? It is so _very_ uncivilized to speak of such things.” He sniffed, nose wrinkling as if he smelled something foul. “Although I wouldn’t expect someone of _your_ family’s standing to know such things.”

Parkinson flushed an angry pink, an ugly snarl twisting her lips. She turned to the girl next to her for support, but Greengrass was too busy giggling into her goblet of juice. Draco pointedly turned away then, not giving Parkinson time to retort.

Harry bumped their shoulders together softly, finishing his sandwich. The blonde even refrained from looking too smug about it.

~~~~~~~>

The Lockhart news, even though it made Harry have to interact with a bunch of overly curious students who liked asking way too many questions, at least had the effect of making everyone stop thinking about the Chamber of Secrets for a while. The dubious bonus of Percy Weasley being up and about and taking points as usual probably went a long way towards helping in that regard as well.

The general mood of the school was uplifted after the long break. Which was a bit of a relief, Harry had not enjoyed the dark cloud that had seemed to be hovering over the castle before the holidays. It had made everyone irritable and scared and short tempered, which had led to not a few fights and much discord. Now though, the air seemed much lighter and his fellow students were actually smiling more than glaring.

Not to say Harry didn't still get his fair share of sideways glances, but as the days passed and no new attacks happened they became fewer and further between.

His first DADA class after the trial was an odd mixture of Lockhart trying to simultaneously act as if nothing had happened and glowering at Harry when he thought no one was watching.

“I don't think he appreciates the blow to his publicity.” Blaise had murmured after the professor had flounced by their table with ne’er a glance their way.

Harry snorted, “At least he's stopped calling on me to act out all the nonsense in his books.”

Lockhart hadn't called on him once in fact, and Harry hoped it was the sign of a continuing trend.

It was good to have his friends back, Harry had missed them over the long break. As tolerable as Malfoy had become, he was happy to be able to exchange snarky comments with Blaise in Italian again. And to share calm quiet times with Millicent. She was delighted to know that Jax had loved her present and promised to crochet more for the serpent.

Harry hadn't known she’d been the one to actually _make_ the jumpers. The thought of it warmed him far beyond the normal capabilities of the soft, neon green yarn. No one had ever gone through the effort to actually create something for him before, and Harry took to wearing the jumper under his robes far more often than he would have normally.

It was still cold in the castle at any rate, and he'd not retrieved his purple hoodie from Snape’s office; hadn't dared to ask. He didn't want to give the man any reminders of why the filthy article had been left on his office floor in the first place.

Another bright spot had come in the form of Sue Li. Who had approached their usual table in the library clutching the book Harry had sent her and wearing a sheepish, slightly ashamed, expression.

“I wanted to thank you. For the book.” The girl said, hunching up a bit and holding said book like a shield. “And to apologize. I never thought you were the Heir, I just don't like...” She trailed off, ducking her head, the black bob cut of her hair swinging forward a little with the motion.

Harry waved a hand, he understood the want to stay away from controversy and out of trouble. Even if he wasn't so great at executing such things. Also, this had to be the most he'd heard the girl speak, outside of a Transfiguration discussion, so he was willing to let bygones be bygones. He'd been the one to reach out in any case, it would be foolish to sabotage his own plans.

“I'm glad you like the book, I thought of you when I saw it.” Harry gestured at one of the empty chairs, “I was hoping you'd be willing to come back to the study group? We’ve missed you.”

He did not know it that was strictly true of the others, but Harry certainly had. The Ravenclaw was sharply smart, and always willing to help explain things, if the subject interested her enough.

Sue nodded, a smile appearing briefly on her face as she settled in the chair next to Neville.

“Thank you.” She paused, then got a determined look in her eye, “And I'll talk to Padma, she doesn't really believe the rumors either but her sister was getting so upset...”

“I understand.” Harry said after a moment, even though he didn’t, not really. He had no frame of reference over how strong familial bonds could get between siblings, let alone twins. The closest thing he had to any sort of brother was Dudley, and Harry would sooner eat dirt than call his hateful cousin such.

Neville was smiling at Sue, approval clear in his open face. “I’ll talk to Parvati, she is being so silly about this.” Then his face scrunched up a bit, “I don't know how much it will help, though. She and Lavender don't really like to listen to me all that much.”

Translation: the Gryffindor girls laughed at him behind his back, and more than likely to his face as well.

Harry had a hard time holding back his scowl. Neville might struggle a bit, and tended to be somewhat nervous about learning new things or speaking up. But the boy was smart, and caring, and loyal to those he thought worthy of it. If the rest of Gryffindor couldn't see that, then it was their loss.

“Thanks, Neville, I appreciate that.”

“It's no problem, Harry.” The boy smiled, warm and slightly goofy looking, “Now, can you explain what the difference between using scarab carapace and dung beetle, again? I can never keep those straight.”

~~~~~~~>

A few weeks passed, and there were still no more attacks. Which, while good, was making Harry slightly anxious waiting for the other shoe to drop. He did not like being so in the dark about a potential danger. He liked even less knowing he could maybe do something to help but also unable to really do so with Snape still keeping a sharp eye on him.

He'd told Blaise and Millicent about the Chamber and Ximen. Blaise had sighed loudly and buried his face in one dark palm, obviously despairing his inability to stop Harry from doing stupid, reckless things whilst he was not there. Millicent had glared at him and put her hands on her hips in a way that made Harry feel about two feet tall. Still, the fact that they cared so much about his safety first was heartening. 

Which wasn't on say that they didn't ask questions about the Chamber and the massive serpent within. Harry was hesitant to tell them too much, out that same selfish need to keep it to himself, or some other reason, he couldn't really say.

Either way, there wasn't much to tell.

Most nights he wrote in Riddle’s diary, trying to figure out more about the mysterious Slytherin that had caused so much strife at the school and presumably beyond.

Riddle was willing enough to talk about a number of things. And sly enough to shift focus away from what he did not want to talk about in a way that was sometimes hard for Harry to even notice happening.

The memory, or whatever it was, seeped into the pages of the diary, was so fascinating to speak with that Harry often lost track of time while scribbling away. He'd gone more than one night without sleep and yawned his way through classes, barely able to take notes. And spending more than a few afternoons napping instead of studying or spending time with his friends. He almost felt like Jax, who slept his way through most of the winter season.

One night, he woke gasping from a nightmare about being trapped in a dark, tiny room. Harry hadn't had a dream that bad in _months_. And as he lay there, waiting for his racing heat to settle, Harry realized he'd forgotten to clear his mind before bed. He'd just been so exhausted from the late night Astronomy lesson.

~~~~~~~>

A couple weeks into February, Harry walked into the Great Hall to find that someone had doused the entire place in pink. There were ribbons and bows slung over everything and a gentle sprinkling of glitter falling on students at random.

“What in Merlin’s name?” Harry blinked at the unexpected decorations, not really wanting to walk any further into the room for fear of being sparkly for the rest of the day.

He did not really have a choice in the matter, as a pile up of hungry students from behind forced them forward.

A glance up at the teacher’s table showed a darkly scowling Snape, a widely grinning Lockhart, and a variety of less than amused professors.

Apparently, Lockhart had organized a big Valentine's day celebration. To make himself feel better or to punish the rest of them for laughing at him, Harry wasn't completely sure. What resulted was a lot of glitter falling onto his heart shaped pancakes and a troupe of surly looking dwarves in far too little clothing with pink, papery wings attached to their burly shoulders trampling around the school to deliver singing valentine's to students unable to escape in time.

Blaise had been sent a number of them, which would have been a lot more hilarious if the boy hadn't completely embraced the actions and thanked each scowling dwarf after they finished their rough renditions of badly written poetry with a sweet smile and smooth bow.

Harry himself was not nearly so graceful when confronted by one of the mock cupids in the corridor on the way to Transfiguration. He'd tried to back away and found the space behind him too crowded and when he tried to sidle past the dwarf, the stocky guy somehow managed to trip him up and trap him down on the floor while he recited a poem in a raspy voice. Harry flushed and scrambled to his feet as soon as the dwarf removed himself from his legs.

Blaise had an amused smirk on his face as he bent down to help Harry gathered up some of his spilled things.

“Graceful as always, Harry.”

He scowled at him, but the other boy just threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders and led them away from the snickering crowd of students.

Overall, he could have done without the entire ridiculous day. At least Jax hadn't tumbled out of his bag, though maybe that might have saved him the embarrassment of having to listen to a poem about his raven locks and pickled-toad-green eyes.

~~~~~~~>

Draco had taken to joining them at the library. The first time had been a bit rough, as he'd made it quite clear what he thought of sharing a table with Neville. But so much time spent around Slytherins must have rubbed off on the Gryffindor, as before Harry could so much as glare at Malfoy, Neville had already snarked back a cutting (if slightly stuttery) retort that surprised the blonde so much that he actually gave the other boy an approving nod.

“Nice to see you've found some of that Gryffindor backbone, Longbottom.” He'd drawled, taking out his homework and setting it precisely on the table in front of him.

Neville had looked just as surprised by the abrupt change in demeanor as Malfoy had at his refusal to be bullied, and had just nodded warily. A truce then, Harry supposed. Which was probably the best he could hope for, for now. Maybe Draco knew Harry wouldn’t tolerate him disparaging anyone at his table. Or maybe he was actually learning to observe his surroundings beyond the obvious surface. Either way, Harry was glad Neville had spoken up for himself, it was a good sign. The sooner the Gryffindor stopped letting others walk all over him, the sooner he would be able to gain some real confidence, and with that, respect would be soon to follow.

~~~~~~~>

Mr. Jacobi had gone home a couple days after the break ended, when it was clear that Snape gone to great measures to keep the new batch of Draught hidden away and under powerful wards. Harry was sad to see him go, but also mildly worried what sort of shape the shop would be in with the man absent from it for so long. Ezra had told him not to worry so much, it was a bit of a slow time of year for him in any case. Most people just wanting easy cold remedies and other basic potions, which he'd been easily able to brew up and send out from Hogwarts.

With spring fast approaching though, he usually saw an uptick in people coming in for ingredients and other paraphernalia. So it was best that he return to the apothecary.

Snape, unsurprisingly, was happy to see the back of him. Harry had to hold in his laughter at the overly sappy goodbye that Ezra had bestowed upon the Potion Master before leaving. Harry was only surprised that Snape had not thrown the man out of the gates himself.

~~~~~~~>

Tired. Harry was so tired. He poked listlessly at his plate of eggs, stifling a yawn and contemplating asking Blaise for some of his coffee. He'd never been this tired before, no matter how much he napped or tried to go to bed early, it never seemed like enough. It had gotten to the point of interfering with his classes, he'd set fire to his projects in Charms no less than three times that week. And he'd very nearly added ground cinnamon instead of star anise to his potion the other day. Which would have been a disaster of first year Neville Longbottom proportions.

It had gotten to the point that Snape had taken him aside and questioned him tersely about his health and sleeping habits. Forcing multiple vials of Pepper-Up and a more mild sleeping draught than Dreamless on him. Harry had taken them without question, too tired to argue.

They didn't really help.

It was getting more difficult to remember to clear his mind before bed every night. Harder to reach that calm, peaceful, empty state when all he could think about was the ache in his muscles and the bags under his eyes. Maybe he'd caught some sort of wizarding flu?

His friends eventually dragged him up to the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey couldn't find anything wrong with him. Told Harry to try and relax, that it was most likely just stress. Harry had shrugged and nodded and escaped from there as quickly as possible. He didn't like the hospital wing.

Hopefully, whatever this was, would just go away on its own after a while. Although if it got any worse, he didn't really know what he could do about it.

Harry couldn't even muster up any excitement about his punishment being over soon, the idea of walking around unhindered sounded more exhausting than freeing. He stifled another yawn, wondering if he could get away with sleeping through History of Magic. He certainly wouldn't be the only one.


	20. Chapter 20

The first morning Harry was free from his punishment, Millicent (and by association Draco) dragged Harry from his nice warm bed to watch the Slytherin team practice for their upcoming game against Ravenclaw. Harry would have protested if he’d had the energy to do so, but figured it was less effort to go along with it than try and fight the inevitable. Blaise was coming along as well, so at least he wouldn’t be shivering out in the stands alone.

And once they’d settled in, Harry had to admit he’d missed watching their House team zip about the pitch like a pack of angry green and silver hornets. He hadn’t been allowed to go to the Hufflepuff v. Gryffindor match a week prior, as he’d still been under strict orders not to stray from his approved locations. Blaise had stayed with him in the common room that day, trying once more to improve Harry’s chess game (it hadn’t worked), so it had not been completely terrible. Millicent had tried to stick around too, but the rest of the Slytherin team had hustled her out to watch the match and observe the other teams in action. He’d ended up napping on the sofa in front of the roaring fire after the third disastrous game with Blaise in any case.

Something he was close to doing again now, with the other boy’s shoulder at a pillow. As interesting and exciting as watching Quidditch practice usually was, Harry just could not stop yawning or blinking sleepily at the players buzzing around.

He’d been up a little late last night, finishing a Charms essay that he’d let go too long without noticing. And then Harry had been caught up in a discussion about Grindelwald with Riddle, who had been at Hogwarts around the time of that Dark Lord’s rise in power. Although most of the conflict had happened over on the continent, the repercussions of Grindelwald’s views and his power behind them were felt strongly enough to have many students (and teachers, and townsfolk) worried. Although Riddle had seemed more flippant about the man than Harry thought prudent. It had led to a long debate about the separation of the wizarding and muggle worlds.

Harry thought it best that they keep far back, as they had since the Statute of Secrecy, and just let everyone try and live their own lives. Tom Riddle’s option was decidedly more harsh.

Which, Harry had reminded himself as he stowed the diary away, was what he should have expected. Riddle, he’d come to find, was very charming on the surface. But if you were able to look past that and read between the lines, you could see where the darkness lay, and how this memory of a boy could have grown to do whatever terrible things had put that look on Snape’s face at the mere mention of his name. It left Harry feeling slightly dirty sometimes, after speaking with the diary for too long, like there was oil slicked over his insides and impossible to wipe away.

He knew he should probably not be spending so much time talking to Riddle, but there was just something so odd about the book. As if it called out to Harry personally, like an itch under his skin that was soothed the longer he held the thing. If he wasn’t so tired all the time, it probably would have bothered him a lot more. But it was just so hard to _think_ sometimes through the fog of too little rest and his mounting pile of unfinished school work.

Harry felt nice now though, wrapped in a warm blanket with an oddly shaped but nice smelling pillow under his head. Now, if only his dormmates would stop talking, he could maybe get away with sleeping through the breakfast hour.

“--he alright?”

“Tired, I guess.”

“Seems like that’s all he ever is, anymore.”

“I know. We’ve taken him to Pomfrey and she says it’s just stress.”

“What about Snape?”

“He gave Harry some potions, but I don’t think they’re helping much.”

Harry groaned and turned further into his pillow, it shifted back with the motion and it became suddenly apparent that it was not, in point of fact, a pillow: but Blaise’s leg.

Harry opened his eyes to find he had slid down the bench at some point during the practice and fallen asleep with his head in his friend’s _lap._ He sat up, flushing and fiddling with the rectangular frames of his glasses to straighten them out and give himself an excuse to not look anyone in the face.

“Er, sorry.” He managed after a moment, hunching up a bit under his cloak (that was not a blanket) and hoping fervently that the stands might just open up and swallow him whole. Around him were Millicent, Draco, and inexplicably Neville and Colin Creevey. The later of which had thankfully forgone his camera for the time being, but seemed to be vibrating with pent up emotion.

“Hiya, Harry! Are you okay? You look pretty pale, do you need something? I can run up to the castle--”

Harry raised a hand to cut off the worried chatter, thoroughly embarrassed to have fallen asleep _on_ his friend. He didn’t need to be fussed over by excitable first years.

“What are you guys doing out here?” He asked instead, stifling another yawn and doing his utmost to not look at Blaise or think about how he’d probably drooled on the other boy’s fancy trousers.

“Oh,” Neville said, looking a bit sheepish, “I was just looking for you. When you didn’t show up for our potions tutoring, I got worried. And we’re not ‘spose to wander about on our own, so Colin agreed to tag along.”

The smaller Gryffindor nodded enthusiastically and Harry worried a bit that he might accidentally fling himself from the stands if he didn’t sit down. More so though, Harry suddenly felt a squirming weight of guilt lodge itself in his stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Neville. I forgot it was last night. Everything has been a bit of a jumble for me these past few weeks.” Harry resisted the urge to wring his hands, his face was warm with more than embarrassment now. “Are you free tonight? I’ll make up for it, promise.”

“I’m not worried about studying, Harry.” Neville said, looking at Harry as if he’d grown a second head. “I’m worried about _you_ , mate.”

“Oh.” Harry didn’t really have a response to that.

“Yeah, _oh_.” Blaise chimed in, rolling his eyes. “We’ve _all_ been increasingly concerned about whatever this is that’s caught hold of you.”

“It’s nothing.” Harry protested, uncomfortable with all the eyes staring down at him. “I’m just a little tired, I’m sure it will pass.”

Blaise made a disbelieving sound and Malfoy’s face looked pinched in a decidedly sceptical manner. Harry sighed, pushing off the bench.

“How about this? If I’m not better by the end of the week, I’ll go back to the hospital wing.”

Neville looked as if he’d rather Harry go straight there without delay, but was thankfully outbid by the more numerous Slytherins and their willingness to make deals over just about anything. A round of nods later and they were all headed back up to the castle (with a pit stop at the Slytherin locker room so that Millicent and Draco could change out of their uniforms) and a warm breakfast.

~~~~~~~>

Harry did not get better in a week.

But he made a concentrated effort to seem as if he had. Forgoing his naps for working on his pile of assignments that had grown unreasonably large. Making a point to try and engage with his study group, instead of just staring listlessly at a book while Justin chatted happily at him about some band or another. A topic Harry would normally have jumped on to discuss, but it was so hard to concentrate lately that he’d only been able to nod vaguely and send half-hearted glares over at Malfoy when it looked as if he were about to snark something nasty about _muggle_ music.

He even took up drinking the bitter Italian coffee that Blaise prefered with breakfast, it helped just about as much as any of the potions Snape had shoved on him; which was to say, not very well at all. It seemed to make his friend feel better though, to watch Harry spoon too much sugar into his mug and try to hold back the grimaces as he sipped. Coffee, he feared, was an acquired taste.

All his efforts had almost had Harry himself fooled that he was getting better, almost.

Then his body had apparently decided it wanted to take up sleepwalking.

The first time it happened, Theo Nott had luckily been up getting some water and had managed to catch Harry before he got too far shuffling about in his sleep clothes. Harry had blinked awake, startled to see the sandy haired boy standing so close to him, and to find himself not in bed, but the common room.

“Alright, Harry?” He’d asked, eyeing Harry with concern.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Theo, must have had a restless dream.”

The other boy hmm’d, as if he did not quite believe him but wasn’t going to push it for now. They went back to the dorms and Harry made sure to clear his mind thoroughly before attempting any more sleep.

It happened again a few nights later. This time, Jax had noticed him leaving the bed and had hissed loudly in his ear to wake him. He’d forgotten his Occlumency that evening as well, which seemed enough of a pattern to get him to start making sure he did it every night from then on.

That should have been the end of it. But not even a week had passed before Draco had woken him with one foot out the common room door. Jax was on the blonde’s shoulders and hissing frantically at Harry.

“ _Wake up!_ ”

Harry stumbled back, tripping over the ornate rug that ran along the flagstones and landed hard on his rear.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not hesitate in reaching a hand down to help him up.

“I think it's time you go see Pomfrey again.”

Harry sighed, Draco was probably right, but that did not mean Harry had to like it. Jax strained forward from his perch, still visibly upset, and Harry gladly took the serpent into his arms. If it also gave him the excuse not to look at Malfoy, well...

In the morning proper, Harry allowed himself to be taken to the hospital wing. Where Madam Pomfrey clucked at him and frowned and prodded at him with her wand, all to no avail.

“Apologies, Mr. Potter, but whatever is ailing you I can not for the life of me figure it out. No infections, no fever, no stubborn jinxes. Hmm.” She tapped at her chin, “Perhaps a visit to St. Mungo’s is in order.”

Harry shook his head, suddenly very much alert.

“No, no, I don't think that's necessary, Madam. I'm feeling better already, I'm sure it's nothing serious.”

The mediwitch looked down at him disbelievingly, as if she'd had a lot of practice in wrangling difficult patients and would not hesitate to wield those skills if the situation merited it. Harry thought furiously, the last thing he wanted was to have to make a big deal out of nothing and end up all over the papers because a random citizen had seen him looking sickly at the hospital.

“I'll go see Professor Snape, I'm sure he can give me something for the sleepwalking. It's probably just the stress of studying for all the upcoming exams. There's just so much I still need to cover--”

“Alright, alright, Mr. Potter, calm down.” Pomfrey interrupted his mostly feigned ramblings, “I have something here that might help, but I'll be having a word with your Head of House in any case. To let him know to keep an eye out for worsening symptoms.”

She ambled over to one of the cabinets lining the far wall and took out a familiar purple vial.

“Now, I believe Professor Snape had mentioned that you've taken this before?”

Harry nodded, he was exceedingly familiar with Dreamless Sleep. She repeated the instructions anyway, giving him a formidable look that did not bode well at all if he were to try and deviate in any manner. It was almost as effective as one of Snape's signature narrow-eyed glares. And Harry readily promised to keep to the instructions before she shooed them out of the hospital wing.

“ _I'm worried about you, my human._ ” Jax hissed quietly from his spot under Harry’s cloak. It was chilly in the castle that day, so he could mostly get away with wearing it indoors without too many odd looks. Jax had point blank refused to be anywhere else, as if Harry might accidentally fall asleep again and wander off without him.

It was not an entirely unfounded fear.

They were in History of Magic now, and most of his classmates were too drowsy or disinterested to be paying any sort of attention to them hissing in the corner.

“ _I'll be fine, Jax._ ” He stoked what scales he could reach by his neck. “ _Don't worry._ ”

“ _You smell different._ ” His snake accused, and Harry could feel a tickle of tongue against his ear. “ _I hadn't noticed before, because it is so similar to your natural scent. But it's as if a part of you is being drawn forward, stronger than it was before._ ”

Harry resisted the urge to sniff under his arm.

“ _What does it smell like?_ ”

“ _Darkness._ ”

Odd. Darkness... his scent changing... the constant exhaustion... None of it was a good sign, and if his brain didn't feel so stuffed with wool, Harry was sure he could have figured it out a long time ago.

There was something about darkness, something important that he'd been told. Or had Harry overheard it?

Merlin’s beard, why was it so hard to _think_?

Ximen! That was it, the basilisk had told him the girl had been infused with darkness. Possessed.

Possessed...

Harry let his head thunk down on the table, the loud noise making half the class jump and all of them turn to stare at him.

Harry didn’t care. He was such an _idiot_. He'd known Riddle had been the one to manipulate Ximen the first time, and his diary just happening to show up could not have been less of a coincidence.

And he'd been happily writing in the thing for _months_. Ignoring all of the good sense he had and letting himself be distracted by the fascinating conversations and almost magnetic pull of the thing. Which, in itself, should have been a dead giveaway.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Harry knocked his head against the desk some more, thinking maybe it might shake loose what little sense he had left. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Of all the arrogant, unthinking, _brash_ \--

Snape! He needed to get to Snape. Get the diary to him and the Potion Master could fix it. Harry didn't care if he ended up grounded until he came of age, there was no way he was touching that thing again.

“Harry?” Blaise’s low voice cut into his racing thoughts, and he looked over to see the boy biting his lip and aiming concerned eyes at him.

“Snape.” Harry managed, pushing back from his desk with far more scrapping of chair legs against stone than strictly necessary. “I need to see Snape.”

If anyone hadn't been staring at him before, they were now.

“Professor Binns, may I be excused? I need to use the loo.”

The ghost blinked at him bemusedly for a moment before waving a spectral hand.

“Yes, yes, Peters. Mind you don't run in the halls.”

“Of course, sir.” But Binns had already turned back to his notes and started droning on about the 1375 uprising of Bloodfoot the Seven-Fingered.

Harry grabbed his satchel and beat a hasty retreat out the door. It took him until halfway down the corridor before he realized that not only had Blaise followed him, but also Millicent and Draco. All of them giving him various concerned looks. Harry didn't have time to argue and just rolled his eyes and continued down to the dungeons.

He only slowed when they reached the door to the potions classroom and Harry realized that there was more likely than not a session in progress. It was too late to turn back now though.

“Wait out here, he’ll probably be less angry if it's just me interrupting.”

They all nodded, thankfully, well aware of Snape's less than welcoming temperament when it came to being disturbed.

He knocked on the door.

“Enter.” Came the reply a moment later, and Harry squared his shoulders a bit before doing so.

A class indeed was in progress, a mix of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fifth years by the looks of things. They all glanced over curiously until Snape snapped his fingers at them in irritation and they all jumped back into brewing.

“May I help you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat, “I need to speak with you, Professor.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, taking in Harry’s obviously distressed state and nodded sharply, once 

“Fawcett, keep an eye on things. You should all be at a less volatile stage, but if a single one of you so much as tips a cup of lacewing flies the whole lot of you will be scrubbing cauldrons for a month.”

“Yes, sir.” A dark haired Ravenclaw girl squeaked out, the rest of the class nodding along with wide eyes.

Snape glowered over the rows of students a moment before gesturing Harry to follow him through to his office.

Harry felt slightly guilty about leaving his friends behind in the corridor, but figured it was better than making Snape wait for him to retrieve them. Also, he did not feel like explaining to so large an audience about how stupid he'd been.

“Now, what was so urgent, Mr. Potter?”

Snape wasn’t glaring down at him, but it was a close thing.

“I think I might be possessed.” He blurted, wincing at the way his voice cracked over the words.

~~~~~~~>

Severus Snape once more had found himself in the position of reigning in a heart attack due to Harry Bloody Potter.

The boy in question was staring up at him with frightened green eyes. Eyes that looked sunken and bruised with lack of sleep. His skin far too pale making the bags stand out all the more.

He had been watching Potter’s health slowly deteriorate over the past weeks, without significant change no matter the potions he forced down the boy’s throat. It was utterly frustrating and he did not _appreciate_ how it made cold fear crawl up his spine whenever Severus spent too long brooding on it.

“What, pray tell, has given you this impression?” He asked, forcing a calmness he did not feel into his voice.

Had it been any other student, Severus would have dismissed the claim as childish fancy. However, he knew far too well that trouble seemed to follow Potter around like a bad penny. And at this point he was willing to entertain any possible explanation to his ward’s persistent malady.

“I found this diary, right before the Chamber.” The boy started, picking at his robe sleeves in a nervous tick. “It was in the bathroom, someone tried to flush it and that's why it was flooded. But the diary was still dry.”

“Why did you not speak of this book before?”

Potter blushed and dithered about long enough before saying anything that Severus very nearly snapped at him.

“I had forgotten, honestly. And when I remembered... I-- I just wanted to _help_.”

Severus pinched his nose and took a fortifying breath.

“Hold still.” He told the boy, retrieving his wand from his sleeve. “I am going to cast some detection charms on you, this may tingle.”

Potter nodded, visibly bracing himself. Severus would admire his fortitude, if he were not so thoroughly aghast at the utter recklessness displayed in handling unknown magical artifacts. One that some enterprising being had had the good sense to try and rid themselves of, if not the proper means.

Severus swished his wand through the motions of several spells before hitting on the one that made Potter glow a sickly yellow-green for a count of three full seconds. Blast. Carefully stowing away the wand, Severus pointed at one of the high backed chairs in front of his desk.

“Sit. Do not move. Do not touch anything. I will be back shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” The reply was barely audible but he did as bade. Settling so gingerly onto the chair as if afraid it might suddenly grow manacles and trap him there.

Not a bad idea, Severus mused as he strode back into the classroom. It might even keep the boy from trying to get himself killed every second day.

The chatter that had been buzzing through the room died out immediately upon his reappearance, which was satisfying if nothing else.

“Place stasis charms on your cauldrons, we shall continue this lesson next class. A situation had arisen that calls for my personal attention. Take careful note of where in the brewing cycle you have paused, I will not be giving any leeway to botched works because you failed to take adequate notes.” He glared out over the sea of blue and yellow fifth years until they got it into their thick skulls to start _moving_. “For homework: you are to explain, in _detail_ , the effects of stasis fields on unfinished potions, which particular brews are negatively affected by such magics, and why this potion in particular is not hindered in such a way.”

A subtle hint that he would also not be accepting a failed practical under that excuse. Firebalm was a simple enough brew for a dedicated fourth year to produce, these fifth years should have no issues. It would also serve as a lesson in the practicalities of brewing when one has the possibility of being interrupted in the middle of work.

Not that Severus thought many of these students would pick up on such a thing, given that many looked to be trying to hide grins at the thought of getting to leave class early. Severus would reprimand them, if he was not so busy trying to formulate a plan for what to do about the darkness that had indeed started clinging to his ward like a second shadow.

He waited for the last straggling Ravenclaw to exit before turning back towards his office, only to be stopped by the sound of the door opening behind him. A student no doubt having forgotten something in the mad rush to go waste their unexpected free hour.

It wasn't a sheepish Hufflepuff when he turned back, however, but three of his Slytherins standing huddled in the entryway like a triad of stubborn doorstops.

“Shouldn't you three be in class?”

“We came with Harry.” Zabini said, apparently the leader in this little gang. “Is he alright?”

Of course, Severus should have known. And as much as he simply _adored_ crowding his office with nervous adolescents, this simply would not do.

“Rest assured, Mr. Zabini, I am handling the situation.”

“Then you know what's wrong?”

Severus flicked a look at his godson, whose face was pinched in such a way that so strongly resembled Narcissa when she was truly worried and did not wish to show it, that Severus very nearly gave way.

Nearly.

“I have a theory.” He allowed. 

It was better to hint at the truth, than to outright refuse any sort of answer when it came to his snakes. A stone wall only begged to be dug under, whilst a picket fence offered some temporary satiation to one's curiosity.

“Now, I will write the three of you a pass. I had better not hear about any of you skipping further lessons today, or there will be consequences. I will also entrust a note with you, Mr. Zabini, explaining Mr. Potter’s absence.”

His godson looked as if he wished to protest, but Miss Bulstrode thoughtfully jabbed him in the ribs and he wisely remained silent; if pouty.

“Thank you, sir.” Zabini said as he took the notes, the words heavy with too many connotations.

Severus gave them all a sharp nod before sweeping them out of the classroom and locking the door. Thankfully his next period was free, after which it would be the lunch hour. Hopefully, if he could not figure out a viable solution by then, he may have to go to the Headmaster and request a substitution.

The Headmaster. Albus would want to know about this as soon as possible, but Severus was hesitant to bring it before the man without all of the facts. Which was all the more reason to get back to his office and question his ward.

Potter was slumped down in the hard backed chair, not out of petulance at being made to stay put, as Severus might have suspected from another student. But with what had to be sheer exhaustion, as the boy could barely keep his eyes open and that bird’s nest of a head kept bobbing with the effort of staying upright.

Severus held back a sigh, turning to his cupboard and pulling out a bright orange vial of extra strength Wake-Up. He summoned a tea tray and dosed one of the cups with the potion before snapping his fingers loudly next to the boy’s ear.

“Wha--? I’m up! I wasn't sleeping...”

“Indeed.” Severus drawled, holding out the cup to the jumpy boy. “Drink. Then explain.”

“Oh, erm, yes sir.” Potter sipped at the tea, pulled a face at the no doubt unexpected presence of bitter citrus and coconut before he began speaking.

It took an eminence amount of effort not to interrupt the stammering story, or to hurl his own cup against the wall, or simply grab the boy and try to _shake_ some bleeding sense into him.

“And so, it-- I just remembered that Ximen had said something about a darkness possessing that girl. And Jax, he could smell the darker parts of _me_ more clearly than ever before...”

Severus put aside the fact that Potter was cognizant enough to realize that all wizards had the potential for both Dark and Light in them, something many still refused to acknowledge, and concentrated instead on the more pressing issue.

“What did I tell you about going after Tom Riddle?” His voice was a deadly whisper, and Severus could not remember ever being this furious at a Potter in his life.  
The magnitude of such a realization only matched by the knowledge that he would not have felt so blasted angry if he did not care so deeply for this idiot of a child before him. And how that had come about, Severus had yet to fully figure out.

“I wasn't _going after_ him. I was just trying to see if I could find something out that might help.”

“I care not for your semantics, Mr. Potter. You knew full well what I meant and the seriousness with which I issued those instructions.” Severus glared down at the boy, still too small for his age, and the past few weeks had not done him any favors.

Harry looked sunken in, a pale shadow of the healthy child he had finally started to become. That Severus had worked so hard nurture, even through the various pitfalls of human emotion that they both struggled to overcome. And just like that, the anger bled away, leaving Severus feeling oddly drained and wrung out. He collapsed into the chair opposite Harry and buried his face in his hands.

“I'm sorry.” The boy said meekly, the words painfully genuine. “I was an idiot, I'm sorry.”

“Yes,” Severus spoke from behind his fingers, dragging out every syllable by sheer force of will. “Yes, you were. The question now, is what must we do to rectify the situation?”

“You could ground me again...”

Severus sighed, finally dropping his hands and sending Harry one of his more incredulous looks.

“Rest assured, that will indeed be a large part of your coming future, but I did not speak of punishment. This book of Tom Riddle’s, this physical memory, where are you keeping it?” Severus would need to examine the thing before he could begin to separate the two, there was no telling what traps the artifact might have laid down to keep someone from tampering with its end goal. Whatever that may be.

“It's in my trunk. I make sure to lock it in there every night, so none of the other boys would stumble across it accidentally.”

“Small mercies.” Severus murmured, rising once more. “Come. We shall retrieve this diary and determined what needs be done to destroy the thing.” And perhaps then they would be able to put this entire blasted year behind them.

Even after Harry had told him of the Chamber and the mysterious, possessed girl, Severus had made little progress in rooting out the Heir. He had considered, briefly, having the boy take him down to the Chamber and extracting a more thorough description of the girl. But had ultimately deemed the idea too dangerous, and far more likely to make his ward believe it was acceptable to blunder about with the excuse of _trying to help_.

The caution had been for naught in the end, it seemed. As Potter had somehow managed to place himself in the worst of circumstances in any case.

The Slytherin dorms were mostly empty, given it was the middle of the day, and what few students using their free periods here suddenly became much more studious as soon as their Head of House appeared.

Severus folded his arms and watched as his ward knelt down in front of his trunk and hissed out a passphrase. A prudent measure, he admitted, Parseltongue was almost impossible to feign.

“It's in here, sir.” Harry whispered, looking up at him with frightened green eyes, “I, um, I don't want to touch it again.”

“Good. You may live to come of age after all.” He knelt down next to the boy, seeing which book he meant amongst the others without having to be told.

As innocent and muggle as the diary looked, it simply _seeped_ Dark magic. There was anger and malice and vile hatred rising off the thing in fumes. The sense of it so thick that Severus was surprised there were no visible waves.

“It wasn't this bad before.” Harry said, voice still a scared whisper, “I think he knows I'm trying to get rid of him.”

“Yes, it was.” Severus countered, glaring down at the Dark Lord’s school time diary with wary scorn. “And of the second part, I have no doubt. Step back.” He ordered.

Harry complied quickly, his hands rising up to cradle the snake coiled around his thin neck. Said serpent’s amethyst colored eyes were trained on the trunk with a healthy dose of angry suspicion. Well, at least one of them had a drop of sense.

Severus conjured a box before flicking his wand at the book. It responded sluggishly, but came out of the trunk all the same, landing in the box with a heavy reluctance. This was going much smoother than Severus had anticipated, so it was not so much of a surprise when a frantic hissing sounded far too close to him.

Still, there was no time to react as Harry darted under his arm and lunged for the diary, snatching it from the box before Severus could even begin to snap the lid closed.

“Harry!”

“You will _not_ stop this.” The voice that poured out of his ward’s mouth was cold, furious, and so frighteningly familiar that Severus jolted back out of pure reflex before catching himself and pointing his wand at the thing that had taken over the child.

“Try me.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Potion Master Severus Snape, I presume?” The voice that came from Harry Potter’s mouth was smug, a mockery of respect. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Tom Riddle.” Severus growled out through clenched teeth, fingers tightening on his wand.

Riddle laughed, a high-pitched bark of a thing that had no right sounding from his ward.

“As does my own, apparently.” The laughter cut off as abruptly as it had started. “Good.”

“You will remove yourself from the boy.”

Riddle assumed a contemplative face, tapping Harry’s chin with one pale finger.

“Hmm, not just yet, I think.” A smirk twisted his mouth, far more cruel than the softly amused one that Severus sometimes caught Harry making.

Severus twitched his wand in a silent _accio_ at the diary, it gave a strong jerk in his direction, but Riddle had too firm a grip on the book and pulled it back.

“Ah, ah, Master Snape.” Riddle chided, “None of that now.”

Severus sneered, swiftly running through his catalog of spells that might force the darkness, or memory, or whatever this leftover shadow of the Dark Lord was from Harry. Preferably without harming the boy, or causing too much collateral damage to the dorms. The list was scarce at best and held no guarantee of success.

_Exilium._ A jet of white light shot across the short space between them. Riddle dodged left but not quite quickly enough, catching the splash of spell light in the shoulder. Severus held his breath for a beat, waiting, but nothing more happened.

“An admirable try,” Riddle smirked again, “but I am afraid my tendrils run much too deep for that.”

Blast, it had been worth a try at least.

“He admires you, Master Snape.” Riddle continued, tapping against the mess of hair at the boy’s temple. “Ever so much. The brooding, competent, obviously powerful Head of our House. A man that commands respect the moment he steps into a room, without a word needing to be said. That self same man that made it possible to rid himself of the filthy muggle scum that had been such a bane to his existence, for merely having the audacity to be _better_ than them. You, who took him in, gave him a _bed_ in a _room_ and steady meals. He feels such gratitude, as if being provided the basic necessities constituted special treatment.”

That smirk was twisted at a vicious angle as Riddle talked, proving that even as an adolescent the burgeoning Dark Lord had loved the sound of his own voice.

“It almost seems as if you care.” Severus murmured, pushing down the ill feeling that having his ward’s most inner thoughts laid bare before him brought about. He had never asked for, nor expected, that sort of regard. And the implied depth of feeling was not something Severus was over comfortable with confronting at the moment, or indeed at any time not of his own choosing.

Riddle barked another laugh, “Hardly. I do find it interesting though: that this child, so revered amongst his people, was left to _rot_ amongst hateful, lesser beings. With only snakes and a powerful, burning ambition for company. I can not decide whether I find more amusing or sad that my supposed vanquisher and I are so similar. Perhaps it is more fitting than anything.”

And with a movement nearly too quick to track, Harry’s wand was in Riddle’s free hand, though not quite pointed at Severus.

“Even this feels familiar,” He twirled the wand with a careless motion, “almost as if I were holding my own. Curious.”

“So you are aware of your fate.” Severus stated before Riddle could do more to unnerve him. Mayhaps he could attempt the same in return. “That the Dark Lord you become is obliterated by an _infant_.” He injected as much scorn and contempt as was possible to scrape up, not an inconsiderable amount given the abundance Severus usually carried about his person.

It was somewhat freeing to speak in this manner to his one time master, although not something he would ever think to attempt in the man’s actual presence. This was just a shade, a pale, adolescent remanent playing at manipulation and threatening a child under _Severus’_ explicit protection. It would not stand.

Riddle scoffed, Harry’s face taking on an ugly twisted mien, “I hardly think that to be the full truth. Propaganda, a rallying point taking advantage of unknown circumstances for the express purpose of demoralizing the enemy. A common enough practice in the war that I find it almost laughable that so many took up the news as absolute truth. More likely than not my future self made a fatal error and was subdued as a result, a fanciful tale spun to take advantage of an unexpected victory, a mistake I do not intend to repeat.”

It was Severus’ turn to laugh, though it was as dead and humorless as Riddle’s was manic.

“So sorry to disappoint you, but I am afraid that it is no story. I was there.” He’d not seen the actual act, thank fucking Merlin, but the aftermath... _Lily_. Limp in his grasp while an infant screamed in terror and pain next to them. The burning in his left arm that had not subsided for hours, days. The heaviness that had settled over his soul for much longer, a weight that had been steadily lifting without his conscious input since Harry Potter had sat on that stool nearly two years ago and the blasted hat had shouted out his fate.

“Lies!” Riddle spat, apparently finished with playing games. “I tire of this conversation, Master Snape.”

Severus tightened the grip on his wand further, but Riddle did not raise his own. Instead he cocked his head slightly and hissed a string of sibilant words that sent a freezing chill down Severus’ spine in a way it very rarely did when Harry usually spoke Parseltongue. Of course it was not Harry speaking at the moment, no matter the mouth being used.

Something Jax, tensely strung across the boy’s shoulders, seemed to have picked up on quite clearly. As the serpent did not immediately lunge at Severus, fangs bared. Instead, hissing back at Riddle and bobbing in an agitated manner.

Riddle hissed again, more forcefully, but the serpent just argued back. It would have been amusing in any other circumstance, but Severus was too busy trying not to completely lose control of the situation to quite appreciate the inherent ridiculousness.

Finally Riddle, irritated beyond caution, turned his head fully to glare at the snake. And Severus wasted no time in flicking his wand in a silent _levicorpus_. Riddle was jerked off his feet and up into the air by an ankle, having the duel results of both him dropping the diary and Jax falling onto the stone floor with a heavy _thump._ Severus felt a twinge of guilt at potentially harming the serpent, but did not have time to dwell on it, focusing instead on summoning that cursed book _away_ from the dangling form.

“Aargh!” Riddle let out a scream of rage as he struggled to gain purchase in the air and finding none.

He did, however, still have a wand and seemed to remember such just as the diary was rising up.

“ _Accio!_ ”

The book halted in midair, blank pages splayed as each of them poured power behind their spells. The diary jerked back and forth, vibrating against the forces being exacted upon it. It was too probably far too much to ask that the struggle might rend the offending artifact to pieces and therefore release Harry from its grasp.

“You can not stop this!” Riddle shouted, face red from hanging upside down, Harry’s glasses slipping precariously far in the struggle against gravity and Riddle’s squirming. “I will rise again!”

“No.” Severus replied with a finality so absolute that it nearly carried the weight of a Vow. “You will not.”

“I will drain the life force from this pathetic excuse of a Slytherin, as I did that whiny brat of a girl, and I will become whole again! I will wreck my vengeance upon this world for what it reduced me to! Though perhaps I’ll leave this boy alive long enough to force him to kill you, Master Snape. You and that blasted serpent. Fitting that I take everything he most cares for as he did me!”

Just then, Jax lunged up from the floor and _bit_ at the flapping pages of the diary, sinking his fangs into the yellowed paper and jerking back and forth as if it were a stubborn mouse that refused to stop struggling.

Riddle giggled, high-pitched and coldly amused.

“Fool of a snake, do you really think--” Then Harry’s body was jerking and Riddle lost control of his end of the spell.

The diary, with serpent still firmly attached, flew to Severus with a startling speed. He caught both with the honed reflexes of over a decade teaching fumbling children around delicate and volatile substances, cradling them against his chest with his free arm as he sent an _expelliarmus_ and Body-Bind at Riddle’s still twitching form in rapid succession; Harry’s wand clacking against his own as it flew into Severus’ hand.

He quickly pocketed both wands to better get a grip on the wriggling snake in his arms.

“Be still, you infernal thing.” He told the serpent sternly, as Jax continued to tear at the diary with vicious, jerking motions. The snake would not listen, intent in destroying the threat to its master, a sentiment Snape could empathize with but nonetheless was hampering him more than helping at the moment.

So, drawing on his somewhat limited experience in extracting venom for use in potions, Severus pinched behind the wedged head and carefully forced the serpent to release its grip in the pages, pulling the two apart.

“Calm yourself.” He murmured, as Jax writhed in his hand and strained for the diary, a murderous glint in those purple eyes. “You may hurt your master if you continue.”

That seemed to get through to the snake, who finally settled enough to allow Severus to loosen his hold on its neck, which told Severus that both Jax’s command of English and willingness to listen to him were both much improved.

“Thank you. It would not be wise to simply destroy the thing without first determining if such an act might prove more harmful than not. We do not know by what means this artifact has taken hold of Harry, and I will not risk his life blindly flinging destruction at it.”

Severus felt a bit silly, trying to reason with a snake, but Jax gave what looked to be a reluctant bob of his head and coiled tightly around Severus’ arm in response; so he supposed it was better than speaking into the empty air.

Looking at the diary, Severus realized he needn’t have worried about Jax utterly shredding it. As the torn bits were mending themselves before his eyes, the darkness exuding from the pages seeming to pool around the ragged puncture marks and suffuse them with energy; shrinking the holes within seconds. Soon, all that remained were a series of matching black dots marring the once blank pages; like an odd flipbook of Morse code.

The dots did not disappear, which was encouraging. It meant the thing was not indestructible, just uncommonly resilient. What was not encouraging, was that Severus could still sense a malevolent amusement coming off the book in laughing waves of darkness. It was still tied to Harry, perhaps even still drawing on his life force. Although not as strongly as it would, were the boy still holding the blasted thing.

What Severus needed was a null space, but those took time to construct and were near to impossible to do on Hogwarts grounds, given the layers of magic laid down over the centuries. For now, he stored the book away in his conjured box, locking it firmly before sticking it to the floor stones with a charm so that he could go over and examine Harry without bringing the thing closer than need be.

The eyes glaring back at him through the full Body-Bind were so filled with hatred and spite that Severus nearly took a step back. Before reminding himself that it was not Harry Potter that looked up at him from the vulnerable position of being dangled by one’s own ankle and unable to move. A cursory once over showed no immediate concerns beyond the obvious, but Severus knew he only had a finite amount of time to figure out how to separate the two entities before Riddle consumed his ward completely. That was not a result that he was willing to even entertain.

He could not do much here, though. The dorms, even the Slytherin ones, were not ever going to be a private and secure location for such things. So, reluctantly, he turned his back on Harry and went to the door and peered down the hall. The altercation, as nerve wracking and intense as it had been, had also been short and evidently quiet enough to not arouse suspicion amongst the students in residence. Severus closed the door again and turned back to Riddle, thinking.

It would be the lunch hour soon enough, which would clear out most of the common room, though it could also do the opposite as students rushed back to exchange books or grab forgotten items before their next class. Severus held in a frustrated sigh, now would be the best time to move Harry. He cast a quick _incarcerous_ as a precaution against Riddle breaking free of the Body-Bind. Followed by giving the floating form a sharp tap of his wand, the Disillusionment paired with a Notice-Me-Not coming out with the ease of bitterly remembered spywork.

Jax, still coiled tightly around his arm gave a startled trio of sneezes and glared up at Severus.

“Apologies, but needs must.”

The snake continued to glare but at least settled on the oddly blurred form of Riddle as his new target.

Unsticking the box from the floor, Severus started the trek to his office with all the confidence of a man on a mission, one not to be interrupted by anything.

It wasn’t until he was back in his office that Severus felt he could breathe once more. Harry continued to bob behind him, glaring and still. No one had stopped them or even looked twice. Which was all the luck Severus expected to receive in this matter. After locking the door to his office, he quickly strode over to the fireplace and threw in a scattering of Floo Powder.

“Headmaster’s office!” He snapped into the burst of green flame, a moment later Albus’ smiling head appeared amongst the logs.

“To what do I owe this unexpected call, my boy? Is it to do with what had the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fifth years all a-twitter before lunch?”

Severus ignored the question and his irritation at the mindless gossip of teenagers. “There is a situation, I need you to come through, it is of utmost import.”

“Of course, Severus, just a moment.”

The floating head disappeared and Severus stepped back from the grate to make room for the Headmaster.

Albus appeared in a swirl of violently golden robes, decorated with what appeared to be drops of sapphire but were more likely than not bits of colored muggle acrylic. Albus glanced around the room, that infernal twinkle in his eye sharpening into something far more dangerous as he caught sight of Harry. Although his voice, when he spoke, was still light and vaguely curious.

“I trust there is a reasonable explanation for why young Mr. Potter is trussed up like a Christmas goose in your office?” 

Severus scowled, “Mr. Potter has been possessed, I have restrained him accordingly.”

Albus peered over his half-moon spectacles at the dangling figure, “Do you have an idea of the source of this misfortune?”

“A Dark artifact.” Severus produced the box, “A diary left here, or planted by an unknown party. It has latched on to Mr. Potter and I believe that in addition to taking control of his being it is also draining him of life at a worryingly steady rate.”

One that had no doubt increased dramatically now that Riddle no longer needed to be subtle about it.

Albus took the box, examining the book within and Severus saw the moment the Headmaster realized exactly to whom the diary belonged. The twinkle had disappeared entirely and an unmistakable tensing had overcome the man’s stance.

“And you do not believe _him_ to be the one to slip this here?”

“No, Headmaster.” Severus flicked his gaze over to the still frozen body, “When he spoke, it was obvious that he did not recognize me from anything other than Harry’s memories.”

“Ah. A slight boon then.”

Severus held back a derisive noise, voicing his frustrations with the situation would not help them be resolved any faster.

Albus cast a few spells on the book, most of them recognizable, a few he could make an educated guess as to the purpose of, and absolutely none of them doing more than filling the room with flashes of colored light.

“Hmm.”

Before the Headmaster could say anything further, Riddle took that moment to finally break free of the Body-Bind start laughing, even as he struggled against the conjured ropes still holding him in place.

“Fools, you can not hope to destroy me. Not without killing the precious body I inhabit. And even then, I'd just find another.”

“Ah, hello Tom. So nice of you to join us.” The Headmaster set the diary aside before approaching the wiggling figure. “I do believe it is time to stop this foolishness and release Mr. Potter.”

“Albus Dumbledore.” Riddle spat, stilling in his ropes and glaring out with such venomous hatred that Severus was mildly impressed. Not many would dare such a thing, well not many sane beings at least, and Riddle had hardly proved himself such. “You are looking far more decrepit than the last time I saw you.”

That twisted, amused smirk was back, pulling Harry’s face in ways that it should never be.

“Alas, such is the result of mistress time’s unrelenting march forward.” Albus quipped, that twinkle making its way forward once more. Riddle gnashed his teeth, renewing his struggle against the ropes.

At this rate, Harry would have quite a few burns in need of tending when this was over. And it would be over, Severus would make sure of that. Riddle would be expelled from his ward and summarily destroyed.

Albus ignored the insults being hurled at him and instead cast another range of spells on Harry that ended in the same disappointing manner as before.

Riddle was laughing again.

A thought occurred to Severus and he stepped up next to the Headmaster.

“Perhaps I might be able to glean some answers from his mind, if indeed this shade is tied so firmly.”

Albus nodded, “Would you prefer I do so, or yourself?”

“I will do it, I believe Mr. Potter would be more comfortable with myself.”

“Very well, you _are_ the stronger Occlumens if Riddle decides to push back.”

Severus did not acknowledge the compliment, busy calming away his simmering rage and lingering anxiety. Riddle’s continued, manic giggling was not helping the matter, but Severus had managed much more difficult takes under far greater pressures before.

He met Harry’s green eyes, fever bright with Riddle’s influence.

“ _Legilimens_.”

It was disconcerting easy to slip inside Harry’s mind, although he was somewhat satisfied to find all the work he had done during the summer had resulted in a remarkably well organized space. The impression of a vast library, as they had discussed, but everything was weighed down in a murky darkness. Severus pushed forward, searching out Harry’s trapped consciousness, or barring that: Riddle’s parasitic influence.

The darkness suffused every corner of Harry’s mind, clinging to Severus as he forced his way deeper, like an oily film. There was an echo of laughter, followed by a muffled sob. He turned in that direction, only to be led about in meaningless circles.

Pausing a moment, Severus stretched out in all directions, feeling for any flicker of something other than the blasted fog. In a far corner, hidden behind the impression of a small door under a flight of endless stairs he found it. A blink and he was right there, the sobbing louder than before, the unmistakable sound of a child frightened beyond reason.

When Severus reached for the handle, it grew blisteringly hot under his touch and he had to pull away with a pained hiss.

“Harry!” He called through the door instead, but there was no answer, just more choked out crying. “ _Harry_ , you must listen to me. This is not real, you are not back there.”

It was no good, if anything the sobs grew louder.

“Oh, he can’t hear you, Master Snape.” A voice sounded from behind him.

Severus whirled around, his wand at the ready, though given it was a figment of his imagination, he doubted it would do much good.

Tom Riddle stood before him. An exceedingly young Tom Riddle, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, certainly not of an age to be out of school quite yet. A theory given proof by the old fashioned Slytherin uniform the shade wore, his hair combed neatly to the side like any good, well-mannered boy ought to. The darkness swirled around the figure, climbing over him like a massive, caressing monster composed of malevolent mist.

“You will release him, or I will _burn_ you out of here.”

Riddle tisked, looking bored with the conversation.

“We both know you do not have that sort of power,” He eyed the door behind Severus with a cold smirk, “Or perhaps you do. The question is, are you willing to risk killing the boy over it? Or driving him fully mad? He was teetering on the edge already when I found him. All it would take is the right kind of _push_.”

A scream came from the cupboard, short and choked off, “ _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... please don't... please..._ ” Harry’s voice was small and frightened, pleading with the darkness and his own demons.

Severus growled, forcing a wave of mental energy at Riddle. It knocked the shade off his feet, but not much else.

“Oh, that stung, Master Snape.” Riddle teased, climbing back to his feet and brushing away imaginary dust from his robes. “I admit, you have so far lived up to your reputation. A pity that I won't be able to sway you to my side, you would make an excellent ally in the war to come, I should think.”

Severus growled again, “I doubt you could persuade anyone to follow such a snot-nosed brat.”

Riddle’s adolescently pretty face twisted in contempt, his eyes not yet the burning red of hot coals, but a dark brown filled with all the burning ambition of a discarded youth grasping at power.

“I shall take extreme pleasure in separating you from your life, Master Snape.” He sneered, “It will only be a matter of time.”

Then the apparition disappeared into the surrounding darkness, leaving Severus alone with a locked cupboard door and the sounds of muffled sobs.

Trying to ignore the heart wrenching noise, Severus again stretched out his senses. Feeling for any sort of connection, or a clue as to how he might break Harry lose from his imprisonment.

He found it after a few agonizing moments, a tangled web of pure Dark enveloping the brightness of Harry’s consciousness and magic. It was far too dense for Severus to cut through on his own, not with the way he could feel the life around him draining away; it would take far too long. There was something else, too, a second tether feeding in from outside of either the diary or Harry own energy. This one was weaker, but still obviously providing more fuel to Riddle’s shade. Perhaps it led to the girl, which meant there was not one but _two_ lives at immediate risk here.

_Merlin's thrice cursed beard_ , he needed more time! 

Laughter echoed around him once more and Severus resisted the urge to lash out. He was in Harry’s mind, it would not do to damage things further than they already were.

With a mental sigh, Severus pulled back and out. Blinking in the seemingly brilliant torchlight of his office. Albus was next to him, holding his elbow, for which he was simultaneously grateful and irritated about.

“What did you learn?”

Severus pulled himself free of the Headmaster’s grip and turned back to the diary where it lay on his desk.

“It would take a team of mind healers days to untangle the mess, days we do not have.” He doubted there were even _hours_ left before the damage became irreparable.

“Then there is no option but to destroy the book?” Albus sounded reluctant to do so, and Severus could not blame him. He did not know what harm that might cause, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they had little choice in the matter.

He gave the Headmaster a sharp nod, “Though by what means, I have little idea. The only thing that seemed able to affect it was Jax here,” He lifted the arm still wrapped in angry serpent, “And that caused only minimal lasting damage.”

Albus eyed the snake, as if just noticing Severus’ scaly accessory. Riddle was giggling to himself as he watched them flounder for a solution, Harry’s glasses had long fallen to the stone floor and Severus could see a crack spider-webbing across one lens.

“This is young Harry’s pet, correct?” Albus asked, with the air of already being well aware of the answer. “A beautiful specimen, what is its breed? Perhaps that will hold a clue as to why it could affect the book at all.”

As Albus reached forward to touch the snake, Jax reared back and hissed, baring his fangs in obvious threat. The Headmaster blinked.

“He's a bit irritable at the moment.” Severus murmured, risking his own hand to stoke the tense serpent along its curved neck in a hopefully calming manner.

“Quite understandable.”

Riddle’s giggles were getting increasingly louder and more grating, so Severus sent another Body-Bind at him, if only so he could _think._

“Jax is a mixed breed, I believe.” He glanced at the snake, still eyeing Albus but not longer poised to strike, he bobbed in assent. “Mostly boomslang and ashwinder if I am not mistaken.” Another bob.

“Only mostly? Then there must be a sliver of something far more powerful hidden in there as well, as I do not recall either of those breeds being particularly adept in countering Dark magic.”

Severus would have to agree, boomslangs were far more useful in transmogrification and illusionary potions, while ashwinders held more medicinal purposes. He ran through a list of possible venoms and acids he had on hand that might be powerful enough to make up the difference, but the list was unsurprisingly baren. It was not wise to keep such volatile ingredients within easy reach of children, not when they so rarely brewed with them. Whenever one of his N.E.W.T. level classes required such, Severus would order it specifically and in sparing quantities.

As they mused, the snake on his arm started bobbing frantically and hissing at Severus. Not in the threatening manner he had the Headmaster, but as if he were trying to speak.

“I do not understand you.” He felt the need to remind the serpent, who did a possible job at rolling his eyes. Great, just what Severus needed in his life, more sarcastic beings. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Jax stared at him intently, before breaking the look for a moment and then repeating the gesture. 

Severus was at a loss, “What--?”

The snake huffed in frustration and uncoiled itself from his arm, slithering down to the floor where it proceeded to play the oddest game of charades Severus had ever born witness to. Jax prowled in a menacing circle before glaring at nothing and then going completely stiff and flopping over onto the floor. He repeated the act three full times, getting increasingly agitated between rounds, before Severus finally realized what he was doing with a dawning sense of dread.

“The basilisk.” He stated, hoping he was wrong, Jax rose up from the floor and hissed excitedly. “You want to ask a _basilisk_ for help?”

The snake slithered in tight circles, the answer obvious. Before Severus could dismiss the foolhardy idea as completely insane, Albus made an agreeing noise from his side.

“That might just do the trick, what a clever little thing you are.”

Sever glared at the Headmaster, so did Jax for that matter, but he feared it might be for an entirely different reason.

“Albus, you can not be serious.”

“On the contrary, my boy, I find myself unwaveringly so.” And there was that blasted twinkle that never spelled anything good for him. “The question being, how one might go about contacting such a creature.”

Severus sighed, admitting defeat in the matter.

“Leave that to me, Headmaster.” He gestured at Jax to get up off the floor and the snake thankfully understood, climbing Severus at a near frighteningly quick speed and settling across his shoulders as if he did such a thing on a regular basis. “You will need to stay here and watch over Harry. I suggest contacting the house elves to make a search of the school for any first or second year girls that may have unexpectedly fainted or look about ready to do so. Harry is not the only victim being drawn from by this artifact.”

“Do you believe Tom to be possessing another at this time?”

“No, but he most assuredly is feeding off her as well.”

Albus nodded, but Severus did not have time to discuss anything further. Every second of delay was another closer to him losing Harry forever. Which, no matter how uncomfortable the idea of caring so much for another person (after Lily left him behind, after he pushed her away), he would not allow such a thing to happen. Not again.

“Watch him, Albus.” He told the Headmaster, not pausing to even look at Harry’s still and floating form, knowing it would only slow him down.

“Of course, my boy, of course.”

Then he was out of the office and following the directions of a bobbing serpent’s head towards what would either be his death, or Riddle’s.

~~~~~~~>

The loo Harry had described to him all those months ago was indeed still haunted by a wailing ghost of a girl and unsurprisingly otherwise empty.

“Silence.” He snapped at the ghost, who gave an affronted sniff and dived into the nearest toilet.

Severus stroud quickly to the round of sinks and found the one carved with a snake easily enough.

“If you would, Mr. Jax.”

The serpent hissed at the tap and the whole thing started sinking into the floor almost immediately, revealing a long and grimy pipe that no doubt led down into the bowels of the castle. Severus cast a quick Impervious Charm on his robes before settling down and pushing through the opening. Jax had maneuvered himself into Severus’ lap, which was far preferable to the snake wrapping himself around his neck for purchase. Being choked by the serpent once had been quite enough.

At the bottom of the long pipe was a vaguely circular cave with a tunnel branching off to one side.

“Onward, then?” The snake in his arms nodded and Severus cut a quick pace through the dimly lit tunnel.

They came across a room filled with the skeletons of various small vermin and a large shedding of snake skin before finding a circular metal door carved with yet more serpents. Scattered around the door were quite a few empty baskets, noticeably newer than anything else in the cave system. No doubt his ward’s work, cutting deals with the house elves again. A frustrating, if admirable, feat.

“Can you call out, give the basilisk some advance warning of who approaches?” And perhaps an entreaty not to dispatch him with a singular look.

Jax did so, hissing out shortly into the apparent vastness of the inner chamber. A beat of silence, then an answering sibilance loud enough to be mistaken for a jet of steam escaping an overlarge boiler.

He gave Jax an inquiring look and the snake bobbed in a manner reminiscent of shrugging, not the most encouraging of gestures. Harry was going to be grounded for the next decade at the very least.

Severus squared his shoulders and stepped into the Chamber of Secrets.

He kept his eyes open, but on the darkly tiled ground as he walked forward, stopping when the sound of agitated hissing surrounded him. Jax answered back, raising up to climb back onto Severus’ shoulder.

What followed was a lot of back and forth between the two serpents and the unmistakable realization that Severus was being slowly boxed in. He could see a wall of green scales moving to circle him and his wrist twitched as if to draw his wand, but he knew it would be a more harmful gesture than not. The situation was delicate and time sensitive, he could not afford to make any idiotic mistakes here.

“Tell him I am Head of Slytherin House, and have come requesting aid in protecting the school from a serious threat.”

Before Jax could relay the message, the massive serpent had closed his circle and was hissing something loudly from right above his head. Severus did not look up. If he were about to be devoured whole, there was very little he would be able to do about it.

Jax wriggled down to poke at the pocket holding the diary.

“He can sense it?” A nod, “Will he help?” A shrug.

“Does he think I come to harm him?” Another shrug.

Great, a suspicious fifty-foot serpent that Severus had to somehow convince he meant no harm, without actually being able to communicate such in any sort of reasonable manner.

“Tell him that Harry is in danger, that he may very well die if something is not done to stop it.” 

The snake presumedly relaid the message, which earned a frustrated sounding hiss and then suddenly there was a massive reptilian face in front of his own. Severus could not have avoided looking into those massive glowing, orange eyes if he’d tried. But, somewhat surprisingly, he did not fall down dead. They stared at each other for an untold number of minutes, Severus had not felt so exposed since he had mastered Occlumency in his sixth year. 

He could feel the hot breath of the creature against his face, moist and smelling oddly of onions. The fangs poking out of his upper jaw the size of daggers and presumably just as sharp. Severus wished he’d had the foresight to borrow Fawkes from the Headmaster, at least then he might stand a chance at being bitten by one of them.

Tentatively, he raised one bony hand and set it on the basilisk’s wide snout, between those globose, deadly eyes.

“Help me, please.” 

The basilisk stared a moment longer before huffing out a final, hot breath and blinking slowly. Severus figured that was a close to a yes as he was ever going to get and stepped back to fish the diary from his pocket, setting it on the tiled floor. There was an insane amount of Dark magic pouring out of it, as if the book were aware of the danger posed by the basilisk. It was so much radiating out that it almost seemed as if tendrils were reaching up from the pages themselves.

No, Severus blinked, those _were_ tendrils. Something was trying to claw its way out of the book. The all too familiar laughter of Riddle filled the Chamber, echoing off the walls to bounce around them in a discordant cacophony of malicious noise. Severus took a further three steps back before being halted by the flank of the giant snake.

A hand was forming out of the darkness, followed by an arm, shoulder, head...

“Now! Destroy it now before he can escape!” Severus shouted at the basilisk, who seemed oddly frozen as those orange eyes stared at the open diary and the shadowy figure emerging from its ruffling, yellowed pages.

The laughter sounded louder, a grating shriek against his ears, joined by an inexplicable wind that rose up and swirled his hair around his face in an irritating manner.

“You are not as smart as you might appear, Master Snape.” The voice came from all around, atop the cackling laughter, “I am the Heir of Slytherin! Descendant from the great Salazar Slytherin himself! You can not hope to defeat me with my own birthright!”

The shadow was halfway crawled out of the diary now, two hands pushing against the tiled floor, pulling its torso free by quick inches.

“I can not be stopped! I will kill you, and everything you hold dear. Then I will scour this school of all the undesirables soiling its halls. After which the rest of the world will know my wrath! I will hunt down every last traitor, every single incompetent fool that led to my downfall! And I will _burn_ them. I will--”

Severus had grabbed his wand, about to cast every offensive spell he knew in an effort to stop this insane shade of the Dark Lord from pulling fully free of the book when the basilisk finally moved. It stuck down onto the diary with such force that Severus felt it in his boots. There was a loud _crack_ that had to be one or more of the great serpent’s fangs breaking off against the hard floor, Severus winced. And then again when the laughter and monologuing was replaced by ear splitting screams.

The wind in the Chamber picked up to gale forces, making his robes snap and his hair whip up into an even more unmanageable tangle. There was a large puddle of blackness spreading out over the floor and Severus backed as far away as the wall of serpent flesh allowed, unwilling to test his boots against the possibility of it being basilisk venom rather than ink. Jax had retreated _inside_ his robes, a sensation that Severus could have gone without, but not something he particularly blamed the snake for doing.

As suddenly as the screaming had started, it ended. The wind vanished and the darkness that had slowly been taking over the Chamber lifted, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in weeks. It chilled him to think that Tom Riddle had nearly come so close to smothering them all without their notice. Severus himself was particularly chagrined, it was his job to stop such things from happening. He should never have let things progress so far under his watch.

Rest assured, he would never allow such again.

When it looked as if no more of the black substance was about to flow from the diary, Severus banished the pool with a flick of his wand so that he might approach the basilisk safely. Wracking his brain for what the boy had called the great serpent as he did so.

“My eternal gratitude, Lord Ximen.” He gave the snake a deep bow, not finding the gesture the least bit silly, as he might have before the day’s events.

The basilisk hissed out a pained noise, finally rising from the floor and leaving behind a number of broken off fangs, one of which was firmly embedded in the now ruined paged of the diary. Severus suspected it might even be pinned to the tile beneath.

Jax poked his head out from under his robes and hissed worriedly up at the large serpent, who answered in a tired way, slumping back down to lay heavily on the floor. Severus approached the massive head cautiously.

“If you would permit me.” He held up his wand, Ximen eyed him a second before once more opening his mouth widely.

Severus tried to ignore the blatant fact that the serpent would have absolutely zero difficulties in swallowing him whole, and instead focused on the sluggishly bleeding wounds where fangs had once rested. Magizoology had never been his strong point, that was more Kettleburn’s forte, or perhaps Hagrid’s given the somewhat monstrous subject. But he _was_ a deft hand at first aid and patching up battle wounds. So that soon there were no more seeping holes, and Severus was relatively certain none would reopen if the basilisk did not go around biting the stone columns for at least a week.

He had Jax relay the instructions, to be sure, earning what had to be a huffing laugh from the great serpent, before he conjured up another box and summoned the now defunct diary into it. It had taken a bit of a tug to get it free from the tile, but otherwise came easily enough.

Snapping the lid closed, he turned to give Ximen a final bow.

“My thanks again, but I must depart now. I left my ward in a somewhat compromised position and wish to ascertain his continued good health.”

Jax also hissed a presumed farewell and earned another huff, it seemed as if Ximen were settling down for a good nap and Severus almost wished he could as well. The day had been far more exhausting than he had anticipated when he’d sat down to his breakfast that morning.

Turning towards the entrance to the Chamber, he saw with some relief that the way was clear of any living barriers and hurried them both back along the tunnels. When they reached the bottom of the pipe that had led them down, Severus contemplated for a moment before taking a deep breath and gathering as much energy as he had left to lift them up into the air and back along the twisting pipe into the castle proper. It had been a long time since he’d last flown this way, and the strain it put on his core was far more noticeable than it had been even a decade before. Paired with his mental exhaustion, by the time he reached the opening to the bathroom, Severus was very nearly ready to collapse.

First though, he had a ward to ground through this lifetime and into the next.


	22. Chapter 22

Harry woke up surrounded by books.

The towering dark shelves giving his fogged and aching head the impression he had fallen asleep in the sitting room back at Spinner’s End. But the lighting was all wrong, a soft flicker of torchlight rather than the steady, somewhat harsh glow of muggle electricity. The smell was off too, cedar and a subtle mixture of spices rather than musty with an undercurrent of old cigarette smoke and the vaguely astringent lemon scent of the cleaner Harry had taken to sneaking around the row house and implementing whenever he was bored, or the itch to scrub away the layers of neglect got to be too much to ignore.

He blinked a couple times, trying to clear the fog from his head enough to figure out where in Merlin’s name he was. Had he finally managed to sleepwalk past all his dormmates? And ended up where? A disused little library? No, that couldn't be right. The room was far too clean and orderly to be abandoned. And warm too, Harry fingered the soft blanket that was draped over him. It was black, with the sort of weighty coziness he'd often dreamt about on cold winter nights in his cupboard.

Cautiously, Harry sat up, unconsciously groping to the side for his glasses. Which were surprisingly present, if atop an unfamiliar side table. He slipped them on and got a better look at the room.

It was, a far as Harry could tell, some type of office. With the aforementioned bookcases lining the walls and a large, dark wood desk overtaking the corner opposite Harry. It had a neat stack of parchment underneath a heavy paperweight on one side, with a sharp looking black quill resting in a holder next to pots of both red and black ink.

Closer to Harry was a fireplace, not as large as the one in the common room, nor as modest as the hearth at Spinner’s End. Above it, the mantel held a stout green and black glazed jar that probably contained Floo Powder. The rest of the space was empty aside from the odd addition of a small figure in the form of a sleeping cat cut from what Harry expected was jade. It reminded him of all the kitschy knick-knacks old Mrs. Figg had cluttering up her fireplace, though this little cat looked exceedingly more elegant than a tap dancing tabby in top hat and tails.

There was a painting over the mantel, but it was of a starscape instead of any number of centuries dead wizards or witches. The painting was soothing to look at, the slowly rotating twinkle of distant galaxies making their way across the canvas. A splash of colorful mists appearing every now and then, reminding Harry of sneaking into the sitting room at privet drive and watching old episodes of Doctor Who and Star Trek.

Tearing his eyes away from the painting, he looked to see if he could find his boots, or if he'd wandered off barefoot. Harry grimaced at the idea of having to make his way back to the Slytherin dorms without even a pair of socks to protect his feet from the harshness of the bare stone floors. It was then that Harry realized he was not in fact in a bed, as he'd assumed, but kipped down on a dark leather couch.

The thing was almost more comfortable than his bed in the dorms, the cushions soft but not over-padded or sagging in the middle. And more than long enough for Harry to fully stretch out on, not that that was any sort of problem for him in any case.

Where _was_ he?

Something wriggled in the space between Harry and the back of the couch, a very familiar something. A wash of relief flooded through him when Jax poked his speckled snout out from under the blanket, even if the snake was glowering at him hard enough to give Snape a run for his money.

“ _Hey,_ ” Harry murmured, his voice sounding oddly rough. “ _What happened?_ ”

“ _You acted like an idiot and nearly got yourself killed!_ ” Came the harsh reply, Jax was bobbing in an agitated manner, purple tongue flicking in and out angrily.

“ _Wah--?_ ”

“ _I_ told _you that diary was bad news! Why did you have to keep messing with it?_ ”

Then it all flooded back, the aching tiredness, the realization, running to Snape and from there to the dorms. After that though, everything got a little fuzzy. He couldn’t quite remember what happened next, or how he’d gotten to this mystery room, or anything really past a vague sense of unease. His head was pounding now, making it harder to think and he slid back down on the sofa; resting against the softness of a square black throw pillow.

Jax coiled up on his chest and continued to glare for another long moment before flopping down and rubbing his wedge of a head against Harry’s cheek.

“ _He got to me, didn’t he? Riddle?_ ” Harry murmured, almost afraid to hear the answer. Jax hissed an affirmative, pressing himself harder against him.

Harry brought up a hand to stroke down the serpent’s neck, hopefully giving as much comfort as he took from the gesture.

“ _I was so frightened,_ ” Jax whispered against his temple, “ _I thought that thing had burned you out from the inside._ ”

“ _I’m fine._ ” Harry demurred, hating how upset he’d made his friend. “ _It’s okay, I’m right here._ ”

“ _I should have noticed sooner! I should have been able to protect you from this..._ ”

“ _Shh, shh. It’s not your fault._ ” Harry soothed, hugging the serpent closer. “ _I should have handed that thing over to Snape as soon as we’d found it._ ”

It took nearly ten minutes to calm Jax down enough to get him to explain what had happened, and by the time he’d managed it Harry nearly wished he’d stayed asleep and ignorant a while longer. Riddle had _possessed_ him. Had taken over his body and tried to do terrible things. Harry felt dirty even thinking about it, like his insides were coated in gritty slime that would never wash away, no matter how hard he scrubbed.

He had been such an _idiot_. It was a wonder the diary hadn’t taken him over sooner.

Before he could build up a good head of self-deprecation, the door to the office opened softly and Snape walked through. His sallow face sporting the sort of blank mask that showed he was holding back his true thoughts and feelings behind a strict barricade of mental fortitude that Harry could not possibly hope to match.

“Awake I see, Mr. Potter.” The man murmured, closing the door equally quietly behind him. “I trust you are feeling more yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry managed, struggling into a sitting position again, embarrassment and relief vying for position to overwhelm him first.

“I’m sorry, I--” Snape cut him off before Harry could start babbling, holding up a stern hand.

Harry watched as the Potion Master summoned a chair and sat in front of him, crossing one long leg over his knee and folding his hands atop it.

“Sir--” Harry tried again, but Snape didn’t even need to stop him that time. Whatever words that might have tumbled out getting caught up somewhere between his suddenly choked up throat and freedom.

He’d messed up so bad. Done exactly the thing that Snape had told him not to. What was going to happen to him now? Would Harry have to find a new place to spend the summers? Would he be expelled from Hogwarts for putting the students at such a deadly risk?

His breath started coming in short bursts and Harry clutched at the heavy blanket pooled in his lap. The ache in his head worsened and there were spots dancing in his vision, which suddenly seemed to dull around the edges, focusing sharply on a leg of Snape’s conjured chair to the exclusion of everything else.

What was he supposed to do now?

“Harry.” The soft but firm voice cut into his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back from the edge of the first real panic attack he’d had in _months_. “Breath, Harry. Deeply now, in... and out... in... and out. Good.”

It took him a few ragged breaths, but soon Harry was able to look up again without immediately feeling the need to faint. Snape’s placid mask had slipped somewhat, his thin mouth pulled down at the corner in unmistakable concern.

“Better?”

Harry nodded, loosening his death grip on the blanket and reaching down to pet at Jax again, his warm dry scales a solid comfort under his hands.

“Jax, he told me what happened.” Harry managed to look Snape in the eye, barely. “That you saved me, us, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean...”

Snape sighed, not in frustration or impatience, but as if he simply could not hold in the expression.

“I am not angry with you.” The man stated, something Harry would be disinclined to believe were he not speaking in so calm and placating a voice. The Potion Master, Harry knew, had little to no patience for such pretenses or niceties. “You are not the first person to be taken in by the machinations of Tom Riddle, not by a good many. And as horrify as I find the prospect, I very much doubt you to be the last.”

The words were haunted, spoken with old pain that seemed so utterly bottomless that Harry had to look away from Snape’s black eyes or else risk falling into it himself. He stroked Jax more firmly, feeling the snake coil around his other arm in solidarity.

“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Harry said after he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Who was he?”

He looked back up at Snape when the man remained quiet. He was looking at Harry as if he were weighing all the pros and consequences inherent in answering such a question. It was almost as if Harry could see the wheels and cogs spinning behind the Potion Master’s dark eyes, about if he should tell. And how much. Or if it would be easier to keep Harry in the dark, _safer_. As if ignorance had ever done him any favors in life.

“Please.” Harry tried, hearing the strain and pleading leaking into his voice and only a little ashamed to realize none of it was faked. “He was inside me. I want to... _need_ to know. What if he comes back and tries again? How am I supposed to protect myself if I don’t even have all the facts?”

Snape held his hand up again, looking pained and aggrieved and resigned all at once. It was the most emotional that Harry could ever recall the man being, and he settled back against the sofa, waiting. After another long moment, Snape took a slow breath and spoke.

“Tom Riddle, when I knew him, was a charismatic man with a lot of power and the sort of vision that appealed to angry, arrogant youth. And he was not at all opposed to offering up a share of said power in exchange for loyalty and usefulness to his plans.”

Harry wanted to interrupt, to ask what kind of plans. About how the infallible Potion Master, so controlled and competent could have ever fallen for any sort of scheme as Harry had. It turned out he didn’t have to, because evidently the questions were written all over his face.

“I am not perfect, Harry. I have made mistakes in my life. Terrible, unforgivable mistakes. Choices made of my own volition, in pursuit of respect that I was too arrogant, too self-righteous, to realize would never have been granted me by the types of people Tom Riddle was gathering around himself.” Snape snorted, a harsh, derisive noise. “Even as I proved ever more useful to the man’s purposes, I was blinded to the bigger picture. Until the veil was forcefully ripped from my eyes.”

“You got away?” Harry asked, chilled by the story.

Snape snorted again, his hands folded together across his knee were bone white with the force he was gripping.

“In a manner of speaking. Although it was far too late to make any sort of difference either way.”

“Is he gone then? Will he be coming after you, too? Who is he?” If the man had been amassing so much power, surely people would have noticed, would have put up a fight.

Instead of answering, Snape went quiet again, unclasping his hands to fiddle with the buttons on his robe sleeve. A nervous gesture he had never once seen the man make. Snape did not get nervous, he made other people nervous. It was disconcerting, off putting in the extreme to have his entire image of the man shifting before his eyes. How could the Potion Master have ever been anything other than perfectly put together and coolly confident in his ability to command respect from every person he came across? There were whole swaths of students in the school too fearful of the man to even contemplate messing about in his presence.

It was inconceivable that Snape had ever been anything less than the intimidating Head of Slytherin, youngest Potion Master in a century, the man that had taken Harry in when he’d basically forced the issue upon him.

Then Snape was no longer fiddling with the buttons, but undoing the neat row of shining silver catches on his left arm. Peeling back layers of tight fabric in such precise, efficient motions that he might have been dissecting an insect for all its component parts.

The display was almost as disconcerting as the fiddling had been. Snape _never_ bared his arms, even in the high heat of mid August, when they worked the little garden out back of Spinner’s End. The man seemed more than content to suffer in the confines of layers than expose more of his skin to the sun than absolutely necessary. Harry had just assumed the man burned easily, or had an aversion to weird tan lines. Not that he might be hiding anything underneath...

What was finally revealed after Snape pulled back the white material of the dress shirt he wore under his robes made Harry’s blood run cold and his scalp tingle unpleasantly, as if being prodded by a thousand sharp needles.

“Do you know what this is?” Snape held up the arm, the mark upon it faded somewhat but still grotesquely recognizable. A skull, jaw grinning wide to make room for the serpent rising out of its maw.

He jerked a nod, staring at the tattoo as if it might come to life, break free of Snape’s skin and rise up to swallow Harry whole.

Voldemort. The Dark Lord. The maniac that had murdered his parents and countless others. Sown death and destruction throughout the wizarding world for years before some fluke of blood magic had vanquished him and left Harry alone in the world.

“You-- He-- But, I don’t understand...” Harry couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence. Snape had been a follower of Voldemort? Of the man who had taken everything from Harry? Was he still following him? Why had he taken Harry in, if that were true? Was it all part of some elaborate plan? Was Snape about to murder him, right here and now? Why? Why? Why?

“Harry. _Harry_. You need to calm down before you asphyxiate yourself on _nothing_.” For the second time in far too short a while, Snape had to talk him down from a panic attack.

The man had thankfully refrained from touching him, as Harry had no idea how he would react to such a thing, given the revelation so recently shoved upon him.

“Good, breath. Do you require a Calming Draught?”

Harry shook his head, taking stuttering breaths until they evened out and he could look up at the man without bursting into angry tears.

“Why?” The single word carried far more grief and betrayal than Harry would have thought possible, given its length.

Snape had slumped in his chair, bending down to rest his elbows on spread knees, the left arm still starkly bare. Harry could see the edge of the Dark Mark, unable to look away from the lines of faded ink.

The man was quiet for so long that Harry thought he might never answer, that they would be stuck in this limbo forever, bouncing grievances off of one another until they both withered away.

“As I said,” Snape finally murmured to the stone floor, the black curtains of his hair hanging down limply to obscure his face. That was fine though, Harry doubted he'd be able to maintain any sort of composure if he had to look into the man’s eyes for more than a split second. “I was young, angry, arrogant. I could say that the Dark Lord went around looking for exactly that type of fodder for his war, that he manipulated and cajoled and lied to get what he wanted. And it would be true, but not a full truth. I did it because I wanted power and respect and did not care overmuch from whence it came. By the time I came to, it was far too little, far too late.”

“But you left him? Before he fell?” Harry made himself ask, he needed to know, he just did.

Snape looked up at him through his hair and Harry was shocked to see _tears_ in the man’s black eyes. If a Snape that fiddled with robe buttons was disconcerting, then one that seemed dangerously close to shedding actual human tears was downright inconceivable. Harry was overtaken but the sudden and unnerving urge to _hug_ the man. A sensation he so little experience with that it thankfully froze him in place before he could even attempt such a foolhardy venture.

“Yes.” Snape told him, the word forceful and bitter and hollow all at once. “Yes.”

“I believe you.” And he did, Harry was surprised to realize, he truly did.

Snape had never been anything close to malicious towards him. In fact, the man had gone well out of his way to provide for Harry. That alone would have given him the benefit of the doubt, but coupled with the fact that Snape had just destroyed a remnant of his old master. Had stopped it from taking Harry over and rising again to regain its lost power and glory. It was all Harry really needed to consider. Snape had been an idiot once, that was a hard fact to wrap his aching head around, but Harry was not so perfect a being to expect anyone to be without fault. 

A thought occurred to him, as they sat staring at one another.

“Is that why you took me in? Besides being friends with my mum? You feel guilty?”

Snape grimaced but didn’t deny it, which was perhaps better than if he’d tried.

“I will not say that it was not a large contributing factor, in the beginning.” He said with a plain honesty that Harry appreciated, if nothing else. “But as I have said before, I have come to care for you, Harry. More deeply than perhaps is prudent, given both of our pasts.”

And there was that urge again, unfamiliar and awkward in the extreme. But Harry found he either could not, or would not suppress it any longer. And before he knew better, he’d scooted forward on the sofa and reached for the Potion Master in a flailing disaster of an attempted hug that ended with Harry’s bare feet getting tangled in the blanket and him falling forward into the man’s startled arms with an _oomph_. Harry’s face burned with embarrassment so he hid it in Snape’s shoulder and continued on as if he’d meant to trip into the Potion Master’s lap so spectacularly.

He figured it didn’t matter much either way as Snape let out a surprised huff of air before pulling Harry impossibly closer in a hug both tight and infinitely fragile, as if they were both made of glass that might shatter into a thousand pieces should either of them move in any direction.

If Harry felt a few drops of wetness fall into his hair, he’d never say a thing. Just as Snape would surely not mention the damp spots left on his robes when they finally separated untold minutes later. Harry looked around, casting for any type of distraction so that he would not have to dwell on what a disaster he was at emotional human interactions. Jax was on the floor, hissing out curses as he struggled to free himself from the confines of the twisted blanket Harry had dumped in his haste to make an utter fool of himself. He bent down to help his friend, which gave both him and Snape a much needed moment to compose themselves.

When he looked up again, the Potion Master had re-buttoned his shirt and robe sleeves. Hiding away the evidence of his misdeeds from sight, if not mind. Although Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved not to have to look at the Mark anymore right then.

He cleared his still sore throat and looked away, eyes landing on the fireplace and the little figure sat upon it.

“I never took you for a cat person.” Harry said to fill the awkward silence.

Snape snorted, the sound of it far less bitter than it had been before, and his voice when he spoke was oddly fond.

“A gift, from Minerva.” He explained, rising from his chair and walking the few paces to the mantle and laying one long finger on the jade cat’s head and stoking down the length of its curved spin. A moment later, the little statue uncurled and stretched with a wide yawn that showed off tiny needle fangs, before it took a few laps back and forth across the space, circling the Floo pot in a few bounding leaps until it apparently grew bored of that and curled up again in its original spot. “She presented it to me upon the completion of my tenth year here.”

“It’s nice.” Harry said, for lack of anything else, it was even true.

Snape hmm’d, looking down into the fire now, his back still to Harry, who was not about to complain.

“So, where are we exactly?” He asked instead, determined to ignore the itching discomfort of awkward silence.

“This is my private study, in my quarters.” Snape explained, waving a hand around the room in a vague gesture. “I brought you here so that I might speak with you when you awoke.”

And to keep a closer eye on him, in case he relapsed into Riddle? Harry mused, before dismissing the thought as ridiculous.

“Rest assured, Madam Pomfrey has been down to check on you a number of times since you... fell asleep.” 

“How long ago was that?”

“The incident took place yesterday afternoon.” Snape finally turned his back to the fire, facing Harry once more. The sternness back in his features, a thing that might put other people off, but that seemed oddly comforting to Harry. As if things might be heading back into familiar territory. “It is mid morning now, I expect you are hungry.”

As if on cue, Harry’s stomach gave a loud gurgle, his appetite was definitely back.

Snape gave a decisive nod before sweeping from the room entirely in his usual swirl of black, the image was more reassuring than Harry might like to admit. If the man was up to that level of theatrics, then things could not possibly be as terrible as they might have been.

So, Snape had been a Death Eater. A follower of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Who in turn was himself Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was a lot to take in, and Harry settled back on the sofa with Jax to try and absorb some of it.

Snape had changed sides, of that Harry was certain. His earlier knee-jerk panic seemed almost silly in the face of all the things he knew the man had done for him, unbidden. Even if the root of the actions were guilt and a sense of obligation towards his dead mother. It was almost better that way, more tangible. Unconditional positivity toward him was about as foreign a concept to Harry as the ability to dole out hugs. He was glad Snape had told him, could not imagine what might have happened if he’d caught a glimpse of the Dark Mark while staying at Spinner’s End. No wonder the man had insisted on staying stubbornly bundled up at all times.

The Potion Master took that moment to return, floating a large tray in front of him which he set on the desk.

“Come, Harry, you need to eat.” The _you’re far too thin again_ , was implied and Harry was not one to ignore plain facts and so did as bade; dragging the conjured chair over to the desk as Snape sat in the one behind it.

The tray held a modest variety of breakfasts foods, though thankfully nothing too elaborate, as he did not think his stomach would be able to handle much no matter how hungry he felt. He tipped some blackberries into a bowl of oatmeal and stirred, taking a careful bite and only wincing slightly as it went down his sore throat. Snape noticed in any case.

“Are you in pain, Harry?” Those black eyes were sharp as they trained on him, and Harry saw no reason to lie about it as he might once have.

“My throat feels a bit roughed up.” He paused, then added. “And my head hurts like there’s a group of trolls dancing around inside it.”

Snape nodded and started opening drawers in the desk, eventually putting two little vials in front of him. One a sharp green and the other a more dull looking gray. Harry wondered vaguely as he downed them If Snape kept stashes of potions all over the school or just his quarters. A cool relief trickled through his head as the gray Headache Cure took effect, and Harry let out an involuntary sigh at the sensation of being freed from the persistent pounding.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry said with no small amount of gratitude.

“Of course, Harry. Is anything else immediately bothersome? Are you feeling as exhausted as past weeks?”

Harry stirred his oatmeal again while he thought about it, “No. I mean, I’m still tired and I feel wrung out, but not as _empty_ as I was.”

“Good. You should regain your strength quickly, now that the parasite that had been leeching off of you has been destroyed.”

“So he’s really gone then? He won’t try and come back and revenge the loss of that diary against you?” Harry shuddered at the memory of the ghastly entity that had attached itself to Quirrell, that Harry had almost ended up the same way. Or maybe Riddle had planned to just drain his entire life force and toss him aside like old garbage. Harry imagined he would rather the second, if it came down to a choice.

Snape shook his head, spreading a thin layer of marmalade across a thick piece of toasted bread.

“I do not believe so. This memory of Riddle, however it came to be, was not connected to the shade drifting about out there. It was obvious he was not cognizant of the fact that we were once... acquainted. And therefore, I see no reason that he might try and make any sort of reactionary move against us.”

“You don’t think he was the one to plant the diary here?”

“No. Thinking on it, with my knowledge of how the Dark Lord prefered to accomplish things, this sort of move was far too sloppy. Too many variables, far too much risk of things going south, as they did. Whoever planted the remnant here, either did not know what it was, or any idea how to properly implement such a plan.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.” Harry let out a breath he’d been unaware he’d been holding. Snape quirked an eyebrow.

“Indeed.”

They ate in silence for a while, there was even an egg for Jax on the tray that the snake happily gobbled up. Harry managed to finish his entire bowl of oatmeal along with a cup of warm tea and half a slice of toast before he couldn’t eat any more. Snape did not seem surprised, even if Harry got the feeling he disapproved of Harry not eating his usual amount. The sentiment warmed him nearly as much as the oatmeal sitting heavy in his stomach.

“What now, sir? Should I go back to the dorms?” He’d like to take a nap, a real one for once.

Snape snorted, “I think not, Mr. Potter. You are to go to the hospital wing to undergo a thorough examination, after which I expect Madam Pomfrey will wish to keep you there for a couple days at the very least.”

“What? But why? I feel better already, I don’t need to stay up there.” Harry tried, but Snape would not be swayed. And soon the breakfast tray had been vanished and he was being escorted through a sitting room lined with yet more bookcases and populated with a trio of comfortable looking armchairs in the same style of dark leather as the couch Harry had woken up on. After a short pause to put on his retrieved boots, they went through a short stone hallway that ended in a door which opened up into an empty corridor of the castle proper.

Harry looked back to in time to see the doorway melt out of existence against the stone wall, bringing back an old memory of his first year. When Snape had caught him and Jax wandering around after curfew, when he’d first given Harry Dreamless Sleep. He smiled slightly at the memory, before trudging behind Snape all the way up to the hospital wing.

~~~~~~~>

When Harry woke from his nap after his examination, it was to find the long room filled with an uncomfortable amount of redheads. Harry blinked, but no, they were all still there, buzzing around a bed further down that’d had drawn curtains when he’d arrived earlier in the day. They were all trying to talk over one another, the probable reason for his being awake now.

“Loud, aren’t they?” A voice drawled from next to him and Harry jumped.

He’d been so distracted by the sea of red that he’d failed to notice Malfoy had inserted himself at Harry’s bedside at some point whilst he’d been asleep. Next to the blonde were not only Millicent and Blaise, but also Neville.

They had all been so quiet in comparison to the hoard of Weasleys that Harry had completely missed seeing them at first.

“What are you guys doing here?” It was a stupid question, he knew as soon as it fell from his mouth, the amused smirk Blaise shot him just confirming it.

Millicent rolled her eyes and Maloy sniffed sharply, both of which translated into: _really, Potter?_ Harry blushed and shrugged sheepishly.

Which seemed about as much as Neville could take, as the Gryffindor gave up all pretenses of restraint and fell upon Harry with a crushing hug and far too much worried babbling for Harry to be even remotely comfortable with. He patted Neville’s back awkwardly while shooting pleading glances at his other friends, who he feared might just leave him like this as punishment for being such an idiot. After a few moments though, Millicent was able to pry a slightly weepy Neville away and Harry could breathe again.

“So what happened over there?” He asked, if only to shift everyone’s focus away from him, nodding across the room to where the Weasley matriarch had a hold of an ear each of both Fred and George and was berating them for some reason or another. The twins had matching, mischievous grins, so Harry figured whatever they’d done, an ear wringing was probably warranted.

The answer came to him before any of the others could voice it, “It was her, wasn’t it? Ginny Weasley. She was the one possessed.”

It seemed so obvious in hindsight. The Gryffindor girl had been one of the few that had even been in the castle when Harry had found the diary, and even he’d noticed how exhausted and stressed the girl had looked for much of the year.

Neville squeaked beside him, looking stricken, but the others were far less surprised than they ought to be.

“Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast, saying the Heir had been taken care of. That everyone could stop worrying about being petrified or worse.” Blaise explained, his voice sounding just this side of bored mockery, “Tacking on a warning to all the students to please not mess around with mysterious objects for which they do not know the origins of. No names were mentioned, of course, but possession was heavily implied as the cause. ”

Harry slumped down a bit as they all turned accusing eyes back on him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted, the words becoming far too familiar, “I was an idiot.”

Millicent rolled her eyes again and reached down to give Harry a light (for her) shove, that nevertheless had him tipping over onto the bed further.

Blaise had his eyebrows raised and a disconcertingly open concern on his face, Neville looked dangerously close to hugging him again. Thankfully he was saved by the arrival of Professor Snape and McGonagall, which prompted Mrs. Weasly to drop her hold on the twins ears and throw her arms around the Potion Master. The sight of which had even Blaise’s jaw dropping.

“Oh, _Severus_! Thank you so much! The Headmaster told us it was you that saved our Ginny. That’s two of my children now, how can we ever repay you?”

Snape looked as if he wanted nothing more in the world but for her to release him, and Harry could not help the amused snort that escaped him. A mistake, as it had Mrs. Weasley looking over at him and then making another loud noise before letting go of Snape and rushing over to _his_ bedside.

“Harry Potter, so lovely to meet you, dear. Dumbledore told us it was you that found the Dark object that was hurting my daughter.” She said, looking way too huggy for him at that moment. 

Harry scrambled back a bit on the bed, trying to position Millicent between them, she made a good barrier most of the time.

“Oh, um, I-I guess, Mrs. Weasley, but--”

“Call me Molly, dear, I insist.” She had her hands on her plump hips and was eyeing him with a weird mixture of gratefulness and disapproval for some unknown failing on his part. The later a familiar expression that Harry had seen near constantly on his own relatives' faces, growing up. But the reason for it here became apparent with the next words Molly Weasley spoke, in a clucking, maternal tone that he was completely unfamiliar with in any context. “Are they even feeding you children here? You are far too skinny Harry, I have half a mind to march down to the kitchen and give the house elves a piece of my mind.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary.” Harry said quickly, absolutely convinced the woman would do exactly as she said. “I’ve just been a bit under the weather, it’s fine.”

She huffed, still looking disgruntled, but thankfully no longer as if she might storm the castle, demanding mounds of food be shoved down Harry’s throat. Though, given the amount the house elves usually tried to pawn off on him whenever he made it down to the kitchens, he doubted the Weasley matriarch would encounter too much resistance in that instance.

Still, she somehow produced a large wrapped sandwich from one of the pockets in her somewhat shabby dress and forced it into his hands.

“Eat that, I’ll not have you wasting away before my eyes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry managed, fumbling the sandwich.

“Molly, dear, not ma’am.” She glared down at him until Harry unwrapped the thing and took a bite, it was turkey with swiss cheese and cucumber.

“S’good.” He said around the bite, not lying, but also a bit too intimidated by the stout woman to say much else.

She nodded in satisfaction, “I’m glad you like dear. You’ll have to come over sometime during the summer, so I can properly feed the both of you.” She eyed Snape across the room with the same sort of disapproval she’d raised at Harry, which at least had the effect of getting the Potion Master to drop the smirk he was aiming at Harry.

The thought of spending time surrounded by a hoard of loud, enthusiastic Weasleys in a no doubt confined space was mildly horrifying. But it might be worth it, if Snape were there to suffer with him. The sandwich really was quite good, after all.

Draco made a choked off sort of sound to his left and Molly Weasley sent him a narrow eyed look, taking in his blonde hair and pointed face.

“Young Mr. Malfoy, I take it?”

Draco looked startled at being addressed, “Yes.” He answered after a moment, the word drawn out slightly like he didn’t actually believe himself.

Molly Weasley huffed and produced another sandwich from somewhere, thrusting it at Draco, who flinched as if it were a dagger aimed at his heart.

“Eat.” She demanded, “I swear, it’s as if a stiff breeze could knock you all over.”

Draco blinked, his gray eyes more confused than Harry had ever seen them, he took another bite of his own sandwich before the sight of it made him laugh out loud.

She pushed the thing at Draco again, who had little choice but to take it. Unwrapping it under her watchful gaze and taking a tiny, bird-like bite. Raising one pale eyebrow afterwards as if to say _was that enough?_

Molly Weasley narrowed her eyes further and Draco hastily took a larger bite, to which she nodded, apparently satisfied.

Harry snuck a look at Blaise and had to stifle another snort at the highly amused smirk that was pulling at his friend’s mouth, and the laughter dancing in his brown eyes. Malfoy would not be hearing the end of this one for a long time.

Mrs. Weasley finally retreated back to her daughter’s bedside, after giving them both one last look that did not bode well should either of them fail to finish their food under her watch. Harry was happy enough to do so, though Draco seemed more flabbergasted than anything by the sandwich in his hands.

Snape joined them a moment later, smirk back in place, but he didn’t mind so much, now that Draco was also similarly confounded.

“Hullo, sir.” He managed around a mouthful of what he suspected was homemade bread.

“Mr. Potter, I see you are recovering well.”

“Yes, sir. “

“Good, I expect you’ll be able to rejoin your class within a day or so.”

“That’s good.” Harry said with relief, polishing off his sandwich and managing a little smile. “I don’t much care for lying about.”

“I ascertained as much, given your tendencies to roam the halls after curfew.” The Potion Master commented dryly and Harry’s smile turned a bit rueful.

If Snape could find it in himself to start teasing Harry a bit once more, things might just be alright after all. Not perfect, not anything close to it. But manageable, and Harry would take that over the potential disaster it might have been otherwise.

~~~~~~~>

With the threat of impending doom lifted from the school, and the near constant exhaustion with it, it felt to Harry as if the days seemed to fly by after his release from the hospital wing. Even if much of that time was spent playing catch up on all of his slipshod work over the past months. It was almost more infuriating that he’d allowed his grades to sink so low than the feeling of half the school thinking he’d been going around attacking students.

He was thankful that his study group was back together, enough so that when Patil showed up looking sheepish and apologetic, Harry just immediately started interrogating her on freezing charms and how they differed from warming ones when it should just be the same kind of thing but in the opposite direction. So why couldn’t he manage to freeze his stupid glass of water? What followed was a gratifyingly thorough discussion on Charms theory that even Millicent managed to get dragged into and that nevertheless still went a bit over Harry’s head. He’d managed the charm by the end of it, so at least there was that.

After being freed from bed rest, Harry forced himself to wait at least a couple days before approaching Snape about going back down into the Chamber of Secrets again. He wanted to check on Ximen, and thank him for everything he’d done.

Snape had pinched his nose and looked beseechingly up at the ceiling for a few seconds before surprisingly giving in to the request, on the condition that he accompany Harry. Harry quickly agreed and even managed to hold in a laugh at the image of Snape going down the massive pipe-slide with such a stoically dignified expression, as if that might make the action less ridiculous than it inherently was. He appreciated the impervious charm that the man had laid over both of their robes, as well, wishing he’d thought of such the first time around. Though given his aptitude for the subject, he’d more likely set his trousers on fire.

Ximen greeted them with a happy hiss, forgoing his usual dramatic entrance entirely and slithering up to Harry to sniff at him curiously, giving a satisfied (oniony) huff at what he smelled.

“ _I am gratified to see you well, Harry Potter._ ” The basilisk pressed his large head against Harry’s front in an obvious bid for horn scritches, which he gladly provided.

“ _Me too, I was so worried about you. Jax says Professor Snape came down here for help and you saved them both._ ” And _me_ , he didn’t add, though it was probably unnecessary.

Jax wriggled his way off of Harry’s shoulders to coil around a couple of Ximen’s horns, as he had the last time. Like a snaky barrett.

“ _Yes._ ” Ximen hissed, his giant orange eyes training on Snape off to the side and looking thoroughly uncomfortable, before turning back to Harry. “ _He is a worthy Head of my Master’s House. I was honored to be able to assist him in my duty to this school._ ”

The words had an oddly bitter quality to them, and Harry stroked over the massive serpent’s snout soothingly.

“ _We could have never done it without you._ ”

“ _Without me, there would not have been a danger in the first place._ ”

Harry made a discontented noise, “ _That’s not true. Riddle would have found another way to hurt the students, at least this way you were able to stop him._ ”

Ximen sighed, slumping to the tiled floor, “ _I was nearly unable to do even that._ ” he confessed, the sibilant words heavy with self-loathing. “ _The pull of that darkness had nearly drowned me completely, I fear what might happen if such like it ever came to me again_.”

“ _But you overcame it!_ ” Harry argued, suddenly fearful of what the serpent might be thinking, “ _You beat him and you could do it again if you had to._ ”

Ximen closed his eyes briefly before shaking his great head in a defeated manner.

“ _Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. It is not a risk I wish to take. Not with so many precious souls in the balance_.”

“ _What are you saying?_ ” Harry choked out, feeling a wet pricking welling up in his eyes.

“ _I have been here, in this Chamber, nearly a thousand years. Protecting this school all of that time. Though little has been needed in the past couple centuries. Due to a shift in the wizarding world towards higher secrecy or in the muggle one towards more rational thinking, I know not. Mayhaps a combination of both. The result is the same either way, I have become superfluous._ ” Another sigh, “ _Worse, I have been made into the type of danger I was set here to prevent._ ”

“ _You did though._ ” Harry interrupted, not wanting to hear what the basilisk was saying, what it meant. “ _You stopped it._ ”

“ _This time. How long until another, more powerful force is exerted upon me? How many will perish then, because I was not strong enough?_ ”

“ _I wouldn’t let that happen! I’d stop them._ ”

Ximen brought his head up again, pressing against Harry’s front.

“ _Harry Potter, Blood of my Master’s Blood, True Heir of Slytherin, you know it impossible to promise such a thing. It is time for me to leave this place, before any more damage is done that might be prevented otherwise._ ”

“ _No..._ ” Harry whispered against the warm scales, Jax echoing the plea.

“ _Calm yourself, child. All will be well._ ”

Harry sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the tears threatening to fall. It wasn’t fair, but then again, Harry’s life so very rarely was.

“ _Where will you go?_ ” He asked, the words rough as he rubbed at his nose.

“ _Back to the land of my sire, to perhaps find a mate and raise a brood of my own. Something I have long thought about, but have been unable to do._ ”

Well, Harry couldn’t very well stop his friend from going off to try and start a family. Ximen had been alone for so long, it would be unfair in the extreme to try and force him to stay, just because Harry would miss him.

“ _How are you going to get there?_ ”

Ximen flicked his gaze over to Snape again, “ _I thought I might ask a favor of the Head of my Master’s House. If you would be kind enough to act as translator for me._ ”

A brief surge of hot selfishness ran through Harry, he could say no, and then Ximen would have to stay. But no, he couldn’t do that to the serpent, not after everything he’d been through. So he turned to Snape and relaid the conversation and request. One the Potion Master agreed to swiftly and without any sort of hesitation. In fact, he looked somewhat relieved at the prospect of having to relocate fifty foot of deadly snake from under his school.

Harry tried not to feel offended on Ximen’s behalf.

They stayed a bit longer, chatting, before Snape made noises towards needing to leave for dinner. Ximen stopped them briefly before they departed, gifting Snape with the fangs he’d broken off against the floor. An immeasurably valuable gift in terms of potential brewing applications, and to which Snape gave a most sincere thanks.

Harry was too sad at the idea of losing a friend he’d just got to even enjoy to fact that Snape _flew_ them up the pipe and out of the bowels of the castle. Though he made a mental note to question the man thoroughly on it later. It was a skill he definitely wanted to learn.

~~~~~~~>

Soon it was time for their end of the year tests and Harry felt so completely unprepared that he was nearly tearing his own hair out in frustration. Blaise took to calming him down by reciting silly wizarding children stories in Italian while Harry sat there fretting over the correct usage of three stage Transfiguration theory and keeping the various goblin chiefs in chronological order. Why did so many of them have to be named Blarg?

He needed have worried so much in the end, as he once more took top marks in Potions and did quite well enough in everything else that his little sojourn into mindless exhaustion earlier had not hurt him too badly in that regard at least.

A bright spot was being able to choose new electives for the next term. Something Harry had been looking forward to almost as soon as he’d first walked into these halls first year. He quickly marked off Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and after a moment of consideration Care of Magical Creatures as well. He liked the idea of learning more about the things in their world and being better prepared to help if something like what had happened this year did again.

He dithered a bit over Divination before dismissing the thought, Harry did not much care for the idea of a fixed future, he would rather use his wits to make his way through life rather than rely on the ifs and maybes that might be found in such a branch of magic.

Blaise was taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as well but had unsurprisingly forgone Care of Magical Creatures, his lip curling up in slight disgust as he read out the name of the class. No doubt imagining traipsing through the Forbidden Forest and utterly ruining his clothes on all the _nature_.

Millicent on the other hand, was taking that class, along with Ancient Runes and Divination. When Harry sent her a questioning glance, she shrugged. “Easy marks, Potter. Plus I hear the teacher is batty, it’ll be entertaining if nothing else.”

Harry snorted.

Malfoy, it turned out, had picked all the same classes as him. Harry would be suspicious, if he hadn’t seen the quickly smothered look a surprised delight on the other boy’s pointed face. At least they were on better terms now than they’d been for most of the year. Draco had even deigned to answering Justin Finch-Fletchley’s endless questions about wizarding society and customs, during their study group. Even if the blonde was a bit aloof about it, and Harry suspected Justin had only started asking to get a bit of a rise out of Draco, to see if he was really willing to try and tolerate muggleborns. Apparently satisfied with the results, when the questions turned less vague and more pointed and backed by genuine curiosity. Drawing Draco into long conversations that spanned a fascinating range of topics that had the blonde lowering his barriers by inches and thankfully softening a bit as a result. Hufflepuffs could be somewhat devious, when the mood struck them.

~~~~~~~>

It occurred to him in the last week of school, that Harry had completely forgotten a big part of the puzzle that had been the entire year.

Snapping his book closed, Harry fairly ran to find his Head of House. The man was scribbling away at something in his office when Harry burst in, carefully setting the quill down and giving Harry the sort of look that seemed to beg that he not make his day so overly complicated when the year was so very close to being finished. Harry really needed to work on his eyebrow game, slightly awed that Snape could convey so much with such little movement.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“Dobby!” Harry blurted, panting a bit from his run. “He knew something was up, he might know who planted the diary on Ginny Weasley.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow again, this time in consideration.

“An astute observation, Mr. Potter, ten points to Slytherin.” Then he tapped at his desk with his wand and Fitzy appeared next to Harry with a _pop_ , making him jump slightly.

“You is be needing Fitzy, Master Snape?”

“Yes, I need you to go and fetch Mr. Malfoy for me, I believe he is out on the Quidditch pitch at the moment.”

“I’s be doing it right away, sir!” The elf disappeared with another crack.

Draco showed up, still dressed in his Quidditch gear but sans broom, ten minutes later. By which time Harry had settled in one of the high backed chairs with a cup of iced pumpkin juice to ward away the approaching summer heat.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Draco asked, glancing between Harry and Snape questioningly.

“Yes, sit down, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Of course.” Draco sat, his windswept hair and clothes an odd juxtapositions to the stiff and forcefully dignified way he sat and looked at them.

“Firstly, I must ask that you keep this between the three of us.”

“Of course.” Draco repeated, curiosity creeping in beside the seriousness.

“I mean it, Draco.” Snape eyed the blonde with a piercing look. “Completely confidential, even from your father.”

The reply was slower coming this time, but Harry thought that was more due to shock than any misgivings over the stipulation. He darted another look at Harry before squaring his thin shoulders once more.

“You have my promise, Uncle Severus, I won’t tell a soul.”

Snape nodded after a moment, seemingly satisfied.

“It has come to my attention that one of your house elves may have information about the goings on this past year.”

Draco gaped at Snape, though he quickly recovered.

“Which one? How?”

Snape nodded at Harry, who quickly swallowed his mouthful of juice before answering.

“Dobby, he tried to warn me away when I came over to the manor last summer, and he’s the one that enchanted that Bludger to break my arm. Thinking it would send me away from the school.”

“He _what_?” Draco looked utter affronted, before flapping a hand at nothing. “Why am I even surprised? That elf has always been a bit off, mother thinks it’s cute.”

Draco shook his head and sighed before calling out in a commanding sort of tone, “Dobby!”

A crack sounded as another house elf again popped into existence in Snape’s office. Although this one was not dressed in the clean white tea towel of a Hogwarts elf, but a ratty pillowcase, discolored by time and all manner of dirt. There were bandages on most of the elf’s fingers and wrapped around one bat-like ear, he cowered a bit instead of standing straight and Harry ached at the sight.

“You is be calling Dobby, Master Draco?”

“Yes. I am ordering you to tell me what you knew about the danger that faced the school this year.”

Dobby yelped, looking around frantically as if caught out and searching for a quick exit. He spotted Harry and froze, overlarge eyes widening even further, so much so that Harry feared they might pop right out of their sockets.

“Dobby is being sworn to secrecy by Master Malfoy, Dobby is not being able to tell.” He said finally, not taking his eyes off of Harry and hopping from one foot to the other in obvious agitation.

“Well, _I’m_ ordering you to tell.” Draco demanded, sounding miffed that Dobby hadn’t immediately spilled all the beans. “You are a Malfoy elf, I am the Heir to that name, you must obey.”

Dobby finally looked back at Draco only to burst into tears and collapse on the ground, wailing, “Dobby can not! Dobby only wished to help! Dobby can not!”

Harry made a motion to get up and try to comfort the distressed elf, but Snape shook his head firmly. Draco looked more startled than anything at the display, the annoyance leaving his face to be replaced by confused... empathy. Not an emotion Harry was accustomed to seeing on the blonde.

“Dobby,” Draco commanded, softly but firm, “Dobby calm down, you are making a mess.”

The elf stopped wailing and sniffed loudly, looking up at Draco with those big wet eye. The other boy looked decidedly uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Dobby can not disobey his Master, not even to Master Draco.”

Draco looked pained for a moment, glancing from the elf to Snape, who gave him a knowing look and a sharp nod. Which had Draco sighing and pinching his nose and muttering a string of words far too low for him to be punished for saying in the presence of his Head of House. Before he dug into a pocket of his flying robes and pulled out a length of green and silver striped fabric. His tie Harry realized, more confused than ever. Snape gave the other boy another nod, his mouth curving up slightly in the corner with clear approval for whatever was about to happen.

Draco huffed again before standing up and walking over to where Dobby still sat on the floor in a weepy pile and pressed the tie into his bandaged hands.

“There, you’re free. No longer constrained by any previous orders that may have been given to you by my father. Now, will you tell us what happened?”

But Dobby only seemed able to gape up at Draco, his bony hand convulsing around the tie.

“Dobby... Dobby is _free_?” The elf’s voice was so full of disbelief and wonder, “Dobby is a free elf?”

“Yes.” Draco huffed, hands going to his hips, “As I’ve just said, now--”

“Dobby is a free elf! Dobby is a free elf!” Dobby jumped up off the floor, only to latch onto Draco’s legs and start weeping all over the other boy’s robes. “Thank you Master Draco! Thank you! Yous is being so _good_. Dobby always hoped but never-- Dobby is being _free_!”

“Ahem, yes, well...” Draco was standing there with his arms held up and away, clearly uncomfortable with the being currently attached very firmly to his lower half.

Dobby eventually gained control over himself once more and managed to step back, the Slytherin tie in his hand was pretty wrinkled by then but the elf still cradled it as if it were the most precious thing in existence. And Harry supposed it probably was, at that. The display had made him uncomfortable, and he knew he’d be spending a lot of time in the near future trying to figure out exactly what the relationship between house elves and wizards actually was and how it had gotten so twisted over the years.

For now, he sat and listened to Dobby’s short tale, and how it implicated Lucius Malfoy quite heavily. Draco’s already pale face had lost all of its color entirely by the end and he had retreated back to his previous seat, a shaking hand covering his mouth as he stared into the middle distance.

Harry could sympathize, if only a little. The revelations about Snape being a Death Eater that turned coat did not quite hold a candle to realizing the man you had idolized and loved your entire life had plotted to harm a castle full of children out of _spite_ towards one man. Blood feud or not. Harry wondered how much of it was actually animosity towards the Weasleys, and how much was the man’s own innately vicious nature. And if Draco would end up following down that same path. Harry hoped not, and looking at the other boy now, how shaken he was, Harry did not think it quite so likely as it might once have been.

Snape had Dobby go to the kitchens for the moment, after it became clear there was nothing further to tell. Harry hoped the elf had a better future ahead of him, though judging by the last adoring look he sent Draco and the way he carefully knotted the tie around his own neck with determination, Harry figured he would be fine.

After the elf disappeared, Snape rose and circled around his desk to stand before Draco, resting a hand upon the blonde’s shoulder.

“I am proud of you, Dragon.” The man murmured, and Harry suddenly felt like an intruder on a private moment. Draco looked up at Snape with shining gray eyes and managed a shaky nod.

Harry, not wanting to be in the middle of whatever was going on here, crept out of the office as quietly as he could, though not without Snape giving him a weighty look that Harry could not even begin to parse.

He wondered if anything could be done to bring any sort of charges against Lord Malfoy, or if the effort of doing such would cause more harm than good. The man had been able to weasel his way out of the Death Eater trials, Harry knew. And all they had was the word of a loopy house elf against him. Because as shaken as Draco was now, he still loved his father, Harry would bet his entire vaults to that. And he did not want to cause the blonde the undoubtedly vast amount of grief it would cause by forcing the issue now, not when the consequences of such action might end very badly for the other boy.

No, Harry doubted Lord Malfoy had even known what it was he had set loose upon the castle. If he had, Harry did not think even that man was spiteful enough to squander away one of the Dark Lord’s personal possessions in such a way.

Back in the dorms, Harry idly flipped through his previously abandoned book and brooded.

He was glad for the year to finally be over, but it seemed as if trouble would be following him forever around. Jax wriggled his way onto Harry’s lap and he stoked the snake absently, next year would surely be better. Things, in fact, could not possibly get much worse.

Even as he thought it, Harry wished he hadn’t. Nothing good ever came of such thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks! Book two finally finished. Thank you so much to everyone that has been following along, I'm so happy you have all stuck through it 'til the end.
> 
> Up next: A slightly less awkward summer! A breakout at the wizarding prison of Azkaban! A new Defense Professor that actully might be worth a damn this time around, even if he does weirdly smell like a dog sometimes! And much, much more!


End file.
